They Don't Know
by soaper410
Summary: Deacon/Rayna throughout the first season...my take.
1. Chapter 1

**One **

We take walks.

Ever since I married Teddy, we take walks. I don't talk about Teddy. He doesn't talk about his sobriety. But we still find things to talk about it. Sometimes we talk about the music, or the band, or last night's show. We catch each other up about Tandy and Coleman. He makes jokes about Lamar and occasionally slips in some joke about us.

But we mainly walk. The silence is something we've gotten use to. It is comforting in a way. Without words, we don't have to pretend. Well that wasn't true. It was the best way to pretend. We were just together on walks. No guarding what we say or coloring a story to not hurt the other one. He doesn't have to pretend he didn't take home some groupie the night before. I don't have to pretend I am happily married.

**Two**

Rayna always saves her pineapples.

Always. She hates them. Always has. Even when she was sixteen with three roommates in East Nashville, she wouldn't eat pineapples if they were free. But she always puts them on her plate when offered. She always saves them in her fruit salad or puts them on her plate at a buffet. Hell, the official rider for Rayna's dressing room includes pineapples. She does it 'cause I love 'em. I always have. When we lived together, there was always a pineapple on the kitchen counter. And when we were on the road, there was always cut up pieces in the fridge.

Nobody ever says anything when I steal the fruit off her plate. Buck ignores when she cuts up pieces of pineapples and hands it to me on the late nights of touring.

**Three **

She still wears the earrings.

The diamond earrings he'd given her for her twenty-fifth birthday. They were large and had been expensive but he'd saved for almost five months for them. He'd surprised her the night before her birthday with them.

When he thought really hard, he could still see the tears in her eyes after she'd opened the box. He could hear her squeal in excitement and remember how she'd jumped into his arms. But he never let himself remember how he'd made some corny joke about her wearing the earrings, and only the earrings, for the rest of the night….or how wonderful that night had been.

She actually still wears them a lot. She didn't wear them on stage of course, those were for those big clunky things that always hurt her ears and got tangled in her hair. She wore his earrings when she gave interviews, when she was at home, when they were writing songs. She always wore them on her birthday.

Hell, her engagement ring matched the earrings. It was something he'd noticed years before. He'd let his mind wonder whether Rayna picked it out because of that or perhaps Teddy noticed how often she wore them and got the ring because of that. Maybe it was just a coincidence?

He knew one thing for damn sure, Teddy had no clue where the earrings came from. He watched as she walked towards him in. Tonight they had a rehearsal for Watty's Grand Ole Opry tribute next week. He caught sight of Teddy standing off to the side of stage.

Deacon smiled as he hit the rift of the first song. The lights hit the side of her face and the bright earrings dazzled in the light. He smirked at Teddy quickly; it was something nobody else would even notice. She was wearing his earrings.

She would always wear his earrings.

**Four **

I love when Deacon is sick.

Well not exactly. I hate seeing him suffer. I hate when he's miserable. But he never goes to the doctor, never takes medicine. He just tries to ignore his cough or his fever and thinks eventually it will go away. He's always been that way. But when he's sick, really sick, he lets me take care of him.

It has only happened a hand full of times. The one I think about the most was when Daphne was a toddler. The night before, Deacon had looked about ready to pass out during the show. The guitar player, Gary, had helped Deacon back to his room. I was so worried, I'd gone to him. He'd opened the door wearing only his boxers, his hair in disarray. He'd only stood up by propping his body against the door frame. His skin was clammy and his color was pale. He looked like a twelve year old boy who lost his dog.

I still didn't know why I followed him or why'd I sat on the bed beside him. But I can still remember the way my fingertips burned when they danced across his forehead and how I traced the muscle of his arm up and down once he'd fallen back asleep. I didn't even try to justify why I was touching him.

I allowed myself to stay with him that night. That night and the other two nights in our thirteen years apart that he'd been legimately sick on the road.

**Five **

We lie about the inspiration for "Postcard from Mexico."

The lie is simple. We wrote a song inspired by a modern day Bonnie and Clyde. The truth was way too personal for either one of them. It was a thing they'd started doing while on tour. He'd go to a bar, grab a beer, and make small talk with the bartender. Then she'd come in. Sometimes she'd come in wearing a plaid shirt and jeans and sometimes she wear the outfit she'd just performed in. But the night we'd written that song, she'd come into the bar in a dress he'd never seen before.

It was white, thing straps and clung to her breast. The dress barely made it past her thighs, flaring a bit at bottom. She sat a few seats down at the bar and ordered a glass of wine. Several men had hit on her. Normally when they played this game, they both got hit on by at least one customer. That night, two guys had bought her a drink while a third flirted. Then I slowly made my way towards her.

I'd smirked as I made my way between her and some poor drunk guy. I introduced himself as Deacon. She'd just smiled and brought his attention to the beaded necklace that dangled at her breast. "So many men. I guess the beads are working."

We flirted, pretending as if we'd never met before. After she finished her third glass of wine and I finished several beers, Rayna began making veiled references to my 'gun'. It led to having sex in the bathroom of the bar. It had been dirty and hot. Afterwards, we made our way back to the cheap hotel, the lyrics poured out.

So they lied.

**Six**

The first time Lamar met me, I was naked with his daughter.

I swear that's why he hates me. It isn't the booze or the number of times he called in favors to avoid me going to jail for a fight or public drunkenness. It isn't that I encouraged her to go after she wanted or go on the bus tour when she was seventeen.

It is cause he tracked her down to my apartment, tricked my roommate into letting him in and he just barged right in. He'd called me David twice before yelling at Rayna to put her clothes back on and "get the hell out of this rat hole." She'd grabbed his t-shirt threw it on and proceeded to yell at the old windbag for five minutes.

He still sees her as that girl he didn't realize had grown up, in my old green t-shirt yelling at the top of her lungs. For that, he will always hate me. And I can't say I blame him.

**Seven**

Coleman thinks I'm Deacon's real addiction.

And sometimes I think he's right. He's definitely mine.

The first time he told me that, Deacon was away at rehab for the third time. He called our relationship co-dependent. I can still remember how angry I got at him. But after 14 more months of broken chairs, late night calls from police officers, and two more attempts at rehabs I guess I just let him believe I accepted that.

I didn't. I never have. I need Deacon. Just like he needs me. We are complicated and so interwoven in each other's lives that severing us completely would probably kill us both. It isn't fair to him. It isn't fair to me.

But I honestly don't think I'd survive without him. When he was in rehab, when I couldn't see him or talk to him it nearly killed me. During the days, I'd just stare off into space or find my mind wondering to him.

But I tell myself that addictions aren't a bad thing all the time. Some people are addicted to sunshine. At least that is what I tell myself.

**Eight**

Daises are her favorite flower.

Back when they lived together, they were all she had in the flowerbed out back. But if you ask her she'll say her favorite flowers are roses or orchids. She use to say daisies are for little girls, inexpensive and easy for anybody to grow. They aren't in the huge bouquets she has in her dressing room every night. In fact she rarely she gets them. As far as he knows, she only gets them twice a year. She gets them on her the anniversary of her mom's death and on her birthday. There is never a card, there is no need for one.

There always tied with a white ribbon, just like the first ones he brought her…after their first real fight.

**Nine**

Deacon is playing again at the Bluebird.

He has been for months. Every third Thursday, as he keeps reminding me. I know what songs he sings. Songs about us. Songs about me and him.

Months ago, I made it to the parking lot before chickening out. I knew it was a terrible idea for me to go from the start but managed to talk to myself into going anyways. But seeing his SVU in the parking lot gave me butterflies.

There were too many memories and too many feelings in our songs. And The Bluebird was too familiar, too small, and too filled with…us. When we were at places like that together, it always led to longing gazes and looks. It was something the band and Bucky could pretend they didn't see. But it was something the average patron wouldn't be so quick to ignore. And the Bluebird was too public.

And that was dangerous. So she'd left and driven around for nearly an hour before heading home.

**Ten**

When I was little, before moving to Nashville, I lived in Kansas.

My dad was a farmer and use to tell me you could smell the rain coming. It wasn't until I was well into my thirties that I was able to recognize the smell. It is much fainter in Nashville than in Kansas but you can still smell it coming.

Rayna and Deacon have been playing this same game for years. Nearly a decade and a half and finally I can smell the rain coming.

I've watched them performing from the time Rayna was eighteen, when I first became her manager. He's becoming impatient waiting on her. She's becoming the emotionally cut off woman she's pretended to be for years.

And I can smell the sweet smell of rain coming. But the thing about the rain is…we need it to survive, to flourish, to drink. But rain, lots of it can drown you. And with those two, you never know what kind of rain is coming.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Thanks for all the wonderful comments thus far! This story is following the first season with both their (and maybe a few other) perspectives. It is kind of different than the other stuff I've done. **

**Eleven **

Sometimes I forget how long it has been since Deacon and I have been together.

I remember when Scarlett was born. We were in Nashville when his brother-in-law in Ohio called, telling us the news. Deacon hated the name Scarlett. He'd said "no baby should be named after a color, or a fever, or a woman who wears curtains." The dry sentiment made me laugh out loud. It was something so unlike Deacon.

In honor of her birth, we went to the movie store and got 'Gone with the Wind'. Deacon fell asleep on the couch before the Civil War started.

And tonight she was back stage at the Opry. She was a beautiful young woman. No, not a woman, an adult. It is times like tonight when it smacks me in the face how long Deacon and I have been together. It also reminds me how long we've been apart.

The last time I saw her, she was no more than six or seven. We'd been in Cleveland for a two night and she and Laura had come backstage. The four of us had eaten dinner back at Laura's house before the show and spent the night with them after. Deacon had gotten drunk, embarrassingly so that night. But still he'd kept his temper in check and if it bothered Laura, she hadn't said anything.

Now Scarlett was an adult. She'd gone through elementary school, middle school, high school, and found her way to Nashville…all in the years that Deacon and I had been apart.

**Twelve**

I don't have to go to an AA meeting.

I lied when I told her that in the middle of the bridge. But her voice was cracking and her eyes were filled with tears and I knew taking her up on going to Tootsies would be a mistake.

She's been sentimental lately. Between her latest record having subpar sales and her fights with the brass and whatever else was going on, she'd been talking about the good ole days a lot.

In the last fourteen years, she'd been the one to make sure we never crossed the line. She'd been the one who always gave me a warning look or made sure to keep us out of situations that would lead to more. Normally, she'd veer a 'remember when' story into a conversation about present day issues.

It hadn't always worked. There had been once on the anniversary of Vince's death. It had been the first one I'd gone through sober and it had been unbearable. She found me in a hotel bar down the road from the place we were staying. I had my six month chip in one hand and a full glass of whisky in the other.

She dragged me out of the bar and we ended up sitting on a brick wall for hours, crying and holding onto each other for dear life. We'd kissed then. It had been the first time in almost two years we had. She'd pulled back immediately. Then they had talk after talk about how it could never happen again. Well, actually I didn't talk so much. She talked and I listened. Truth be told, I didn't even hear half of what she said. I was too busy realizing that whatever delusion I had about kissing her and her coming to some realization about us was just that…a delusion.

She did the same thing after we almost kissed that random night in Orlando and during their camping trip in the Rockies and the time they danced at Gilly's Bar for hours.

They had a bunch of talks then too.

Those talks involved how committed she was with Teddy and how good I was doing with my sobriety. She always sounded like a school teacher reminding her worst student about how important it was to behave.

Those conversations led me to go to more AA meetings.

So it was better to avoid the talks, which meant avoiding the possibility of a kiss, which meant avoiding Tootsies.

**Thirteen**

I always have Snickers in the Halloween bowl.

Most years, we are on the road somewhere. But a couple of times, we've been in Nashville on October 31 and I always buy candy for the neighborhood kids.

She had insisted on buying candy that Halloween. She said we'd never done Halloween together and she wanted to. So for two hours, we'd given out candy to every nurse, witch, ghost, superhero, and Disney Princess. I'd turned out the front porch light and then she burst into tears in the middle of the living room a second before jumping in my arms.

It had taken twenty minutes and several "Baby I love yous" before she wiped her nose on her sleeve and admitted she was late.

I'd stupidly asked" late for what?" before realizing what she meant. Back then, my stomach had clenched in absolute fear. But she was crying and her hands were trembling and so I promised her we would figure it out. After a while, we got in the truck and drove to the grocery store. I stayed in the car while she went in and got two test.

That whole night seemed like a complete out of body experience. I didn't know if I was more scared of a baby or Lamar Wyatt but either way I had been absolutely petrified. She'd gone into the bathroom after I kissed her and promised her we'd get through this together.

When she emerged a few minutes later, she said they had to wait three minutes before knowing.

So I walked over to the nearly empty candy bowl and brought back a Snickers to join her on the bed. I'd taken a bite and handed the other half to her. Then she'd gone into the bathroom and came back out more hysterical than before. I was pretty sure I had stopped breathing for a second before she told me the test was negative.

Even now he wondered what would have happened if that test was positive. For years I was relieved it was negative but now….now it was more a bittersweet memory. Her career would have been vastly different if she'd been a knocked up twenty three year old in the country music. Their lives, their music, their…everything would have been so different.

That child would have been twenty something now, probably as old as….Juliette Barnes. He heard the doorbell ring and grabbed the candy bowl.

**Fourteen **

I miss fighting with him.

We haven't fought in a really long. We disagree. We have differences of opinions but we don't fight anymore. And God knows I miss fighting.

Okay, I don't miss the drunk yelling and screaming at each other for half the night fights. But I miss the stupid fights. I miss the fights about whether we are going to Daddy's for Christmas or fights about the set list. I miss fights where I'm angry about Edgehill's publicity or Deacon is aggravated that he thought I flirted with some radio DJ.

We'd yell and fight. I'd stomp my foot and he'd yell back. He'd punch the air and I'd slam a door. But we couldn't stand it, being angry at each other. As soon as the yelling stopped, he'd give me that look or he'd see bite my lip.

And then he'd say what he always said, "hey". And I would run to him. I'd always run to him and he'd always walk towards me. Most of the time, we'd end up tearing each other's clothes off. Sometimes we'd talk first or work on an idea for a song. Then we'd get to the make up part. But we always did the make up part. Often more than once.

Until today. Today we actually had a fight. A small one. A stupid one about a guitar. A guitar some little girl gave him as a bribe. A stupid little girl that was sleeping with Deacon, that was writing with Deacon.

And now I was staring at ceiling in my bedroom and he was probably doing the make up part with Juliette Barnes. And I was trying to remember how his voice sounded, low and husky when he'd whisper he was sorry too.

**Fifteen **

I haven't played with a blue guitar pick in nearly a decade and half.

I actually don't play with picks very much anyways but never blue ones.

Well that isn't always true. Every once in a while I do it just to see if I can still get a reaction out of her. And I do. She always blushes when she sees me holding one. And then I always think about that Valentine's Day and that generally leads to me spending an extra ten minutes in the shower or getting really lost in whatever girl I'm taking home.

It had been our second; maybe third Valentine's Day and she'd bugged me for weeks about what I wanted. I got annoyed and told her I wanted another guitar pick. I had dozens already but I was annoyed and just wanted her to quit asking me. She asked what kind and I told her "blue."

We'd been in some half decent hotel. I bought her favorite white wine we'd planned to go out to dinner after the show.

I jumped in the shower and came back out to find Rayna laying on the bed naked. Well she was naked, except for strategically placed blue guitar picks.

My eyes met hers and we just smiled at each other for a long moment. Back then, it felt like time just stopped when they were together like that. And that night, seemed to go on forever. They'd come up with some very naughty uses for guitar picks.

For years after, they'd randomly be on stage and he'd pull a blue pick out of his pocket. Sometimes when he was really bad, he'd hold the pick between his teeth as though he needed both his hands free between songs. Either way it wouldn't matter, he'd be playing with the band tonight at the Bluebird. She wouldn't be there to see whatever color pick he uses.

**Sixteen**

I have a box of things at Daddy's house.

It is a red box, Rubbermaid brand. It had held Christmas decorations for years but then had turned into my box after I moved out of Deacon's house. I kept it in the bench of the window seal seat in my room. Most people didn't know the bench was hollow. Daddy did and Daddy probably knew the box was there but he never moved it and never mentioned it.

There would be years on end that I never looked inside. But I kept it anyways. And today I needed to see it.

The box had at least a hundred colored photos: pictures of the two of them performing on stage, goofing around on the tour bus, pictures of Vince, Mark, and other band members being stupid. There was his grey t-shirt that lost his scent years before, a guitar pick, a stuffed elephant, the necklace I wore the night we wrote 'Postcard'. There was a Japanese fan that use to be a bright red, now it was more a rose colored.

There were programs and fliers from their early stuff. There were the pages of scribbled notes and lyrics that became some of their most famous songs. There was a key with a big piece of wood attached from the Bay bridge Motel. There was the garter he caught at Coleman's wedding and notes he'd written her on the back of cocktail napkins.

I hear Daddy yelling at Martha, asking why my car was out front. I put the lid on the back box and wiped the tear that had escaped. I looked at my watch. I could make dinner, tuck the girls into bed, and still have time to make most of Deacon's show.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for all the wonderful and encouraging comments! You all have been great!**

**Seventeen**

I know how to text.

I text Juliette and my lawyers. I text my sister and Scarlett and Coleman. But not Ray. Never Ray. I want to hear her voice when I call her. I need to let myself get lost in the pauses when she is contemplating on how to answer whatever mundane question I ask.

So I tell Rayna, I don't know how.

**Eighteen**

When I'm nervous, I fidget with my hands.

Deacon knows I'm freaking out. He tells me so. He can see it all over my face and sees me messing with my hands.

After Bucky leaves us in the Sound Check break room, it is just the two of us. He starts telling me his idea for the set list for our tour. He can see it in my eyes that I am terrified of this tour, of it being the two of us….just the two of us.

I keep hearing Buck's words about how nice the tour bus is, how many weeks we'll be on the road, how it will just be me and Deacon up on stage. His face is calm, he is calm. His calmness is even more unnerving.

He hints at what happened at the Bluebird last night. His hints are subtle at first, but then he gets more obvious. He knows I haven't gotten any sleep. He knows I haven't thought about anything else since I ran out of his SVU.

I twist my fingers together. He stares at me and I break eye contact. He excuses himself from the room, knowing I need space right now.

**Nineteen**

I hate talking at meetings.

Hate it. I've never been great at sharing my thoughts or opinions with strangers. That is what music is for. To share who I am with others without talking.

But AA requires it. So I do it. And today it feels like a sharing day.

I wipe my hands on my jeans and stand up. My chair makes a squeaky sound as the metal chair scratches the tile floor. I introduce myself, tell everyone how long I've been sober and then start into my testimony. Rehab five times. Mostly liquor but I have done my share coke,

Favorite drink was Jim Bean. I bring up the dead best friend. I mention how I lost the love of my life. Then I pause for just a second, looking into the face of some young girl with bleach blonde hair.

I tell them that after thirteen years, she is finally coming around to the idea of us being together again. I leave out that she's married with kids. I leave out that I just left the Country Club with her in tears, telling me she needs to be letting me go.

Cause while I have to talk at AA meetings, I don't have to fucking tell them everything.

**Twenty**

She said Deacon's name last night in her sleep.

I haven't heard her do that in years. It was such a shock that I almost deluded myself into thinking I'd misheard it. Then she said his name again. Correction: she groaned his name again.

And now I'm sitting here watching her sleep as her fingertips play over the top of the comforter. Then I notice a smile pass over her lips.

I say "hey' three times before she jerks awake and I drink another sip of coffee like I have no idea what she was dreaming of.

**Twenty One**

I don't hate the Country Club.

Sure, I'm not a big fan of the place. Too many fake people in their seersucker bowties. But I've had some good times there. Before Rayna's Aunt Eleanor died, we'd go eat brunch there every once in a while. She was a tough old broad, but she liked me. And she liked me and Rayna together. That always got Lamar's goat.

And there were several times when Rayna and I snuck off…for some personal time there.

Coleman makes a comment that the Wyatt family is hard to say no to. I don't correct him. He's talking about his own demons with Lamar and the girls. I've never had a problem saying no to Lamar….or even Tandy for that matter. But for Rayna, I'm not sure 'no' is in my vocabulary.

Sure I've disagreed with her, a lot. Back in the old days when her ego got too big or her sights were set too high, I'd bring her back down to earth. Hell, there were times, I was the only one telling her she was acting like a brat or she was flat out wrong about things. But like then, I was also her biggest supporter and always had her back.

Cole asks me what else is going on and I pretend to have no clue what he is talking about. He probably knows it has to do with Ray. Most things that make me smile like I'm smiling now do have something to with her.

He asks about Juliette Barnes, knowing I'm helping her. He hints about a relationship and I scoff. He mentions intimacy and I am reminded how different he and I are. For me, sex is just that. It isn't an intimate or emotional connection for me. It is something fun to do while I wait for the next song writing session or the next show.

He makes a comment about the mayoral race and I wish him the best of luck. He's got my vote for sure and I've already put a sign up in my yard. He wishes me luck at this Teddy for Mayor thing tomorrow at the Country Club. I smirk.

She always talks to me when she wants to complain about the Country Club crowd and tomorrow night won't be an exception.

**Twenty Two**

I don't know how to function without Deacon.

I told Deacon last night we were done. But I don't know how to do that. I don't know how…I don't know how to even begin to comprehend that he isn't a part of my life.

For the better part of a decade we lived together. We toured together. We were together every day, all day. For months at a time we were never more than a few hundred feet away from each other.

I still remember the weekend he and Vince decided to go on a guy's fishing trip for two nights. We had not spent a night apart in well over two years at that point. And that 48 hours was hell.

I couldn't sleep without him beside of me. I felt odd to pour only one cup of coffee. It was weirder to not be able to kiss him when I wanted to or hold his hand just because. It had been entirely too pathetic for words but when he came home six hours before he was suppose to, I realized it was the same for him.

Of course things changed later.

As Deacon's drinking got worse, he and Vince would stay out drinking after I went to bed. Even after the wreck, he was always nearby. Most of the time, he was drunk in the hotel room or backstage with his whiskey but he was still in relative physical proximity to me.

Then there was the first rehab stint. That had been awful. I ached for him. I worried about him constantly. But back then, I just knew that would be the last time we were separated like that. But each trip to rehab after got longer. By the last time, things were different between us.

We would spend days at a time when we wouldn't talk or see each other. I was busy being a new mother and wife. He was trying to stay sober and put back the pieces of his life. But after about five days one of us would always cave and find an excuse to meet the other.

I don't even know how to contemplate not seeing Deacon. There has always been a time when I'll see him again: when he's released from rehab, when his 10 day jail sentence is over, when the tour starts, when our writing session is next week.

I've been without him before. But those were temporary and this feels so…permanent. It feels like I'm losing him completely.

**Twenty Three**

We wrote that song when she was about eight months pregnant with Daphne.

It had been the week before July 4th. She'd been hot and miserable and cranky when I called to check on her that day. She was in desperate need of a distraction, so I had gone to her house in Belle Meade and "American Beauty" practically wrote itself.

And now she wants to change the words.

For a damn commercial. For a damn commercial about lip gloss.

I tell the lawyers, I'm not agreeing to the changes. When Bucky called a few hours later, I tell him the same. I know she'll come see me soon. And she will get mad that I tell her no to the lyric change. But she is going back to Teddy, again.

She chose Teddy again. So I am choosing the music. It is all I got left at this point.

**Twenty Four**

I have a soft spot for stuffed elephants.

I walk into Maddie's room and walk over to her bookcase. I grab Trunkers and plop down on Maddie's bed. Trunkers' fur is now more white than grey now and most of the stuffing in his trunk is gone too. Once upon a time, this was one of Maddie's favorite animals, a gift from her Uncle Deacon on her second birthday.

There had been no note, no card. It was just there on the gift table with a pink bow around its neck. But I knew who it was from.

It looked just like the one he'd gotten me the night before he checked into rehab for the first time. The only difference was my elephant's shoes were tan and Maddie's elephant wore pink shoes.

Elephant Shoes.

I had been crying for lots of reason the night he gave the elephant to me. For one, he'd been sober for three entire days at that point and he was ready to go for the 28 day program. We had scheduled him for check in the next morning. I was relieved that he was finally going to get help and also scared about not being with him for so long.

So he gave me the stuffed animal and then led me over to the mirror at my vanity. He stood behind me, with his arms wrapped around my waist. He'd said "Elephant Shoes" several times out loud with both of us looking into the mirror in front of us. Then he whispered it a few more time, and then just mouthed the words.

It was only when he mouthed the words that I realized when he said "elephant shoes", it looked like he was saying "I love you." He'd kissed the top of her head and swore to me he loved me more than anything else in the world. He had apologized for everything and promised in a month he'd be back. But until then, I just had to look at the elephant to be reminded that he'd be back soon."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Thank you all for the comments and reviews. You all are absolutely wonderful for reviewing and they are really encouraging! Also, to the other writers, thank you all for updating. We have had an awesome fic week & I hope it continues!  
**

**Twenty Five**

I've been visiting Vince a lot lately.

Deacon hates visiting Vince's grave, but I find it comforting. I always have. It is ironic because I don't visit Mama's grave too often. I don't find visiting that cemetery gives me any peace or makes me miss her any less. I only go when Tandy ask me to go with her.

But Vince's headstone is different. I always feel better after visiting him.

I brush the leaves off the end of the plot and sit down on the ground in front of him. I trace his name in the deep grey granite stone. Then I slowly let my fingers move over the guitar etched below the dates of his birth and death.

And I smile softly 'cause I know Vince would hate it. He would have preferred having his ashes scattered in the ocean or released into the wind off some mountain. But Vince's poor mother needed a headstone and a place to visit, so she chose her family's plot at their church.

I came here today to talk about everything, not just Deacon.

I talk to Vince about my career and Marshall Evans and how lost I feel about everything. I talk to him about the election and the girls. I admit aloud how unhappy I am right now. I haven't done that before and it is equal parts freeing and devastating to put into words what I'm feeling.

And somehow I can hear his Alabama twang telling me to "get off my cute ass and go make things right."

But I won't call Deacon.

Not after that crap he pulled the other night at his house. Somehow he can't change eleven damn words to one song. I told him I need this and he just said no. Then in the same breath he defended Juliette Barnes singing about boys and buses and bubble gum.

I tell Vince that I've been trying to do some writing on my own. I admit I want Teddy to lose this election. I tell him that I met Liam McGuinness yesterday. And that jerk basically called me an over-the-hill soccer mom. He didn't even let me in the door. I shake my head at my own thoughts. Liam McGuinness wasn't the only one who saw me as as some fading country star. Marshall Evans did too. And apparently so did my fans.

And then the morning breeze picks up. And I swear I can hear Vince's voice again, asking me what I was going to do about it.

**Twenty Six **

I still have a picture of us in my wallet. Technically it is three pictures, black and white.

It is the two of us at one of those stupid photo booths that she used to make us go to pose in. It had been the day we signed our contract with Edgehill and we went out to celebrate. The photo booth was in the back of one of the souvenir shops on 8th Avenue and she practically drug me through the store to the booth.

The first picture was of me smiling, looking straight ahead while she kissed my check. The second was us looking at each other, both smiling and the third was us kissing, both still smiling.

I carried it with me the first time in rehab and it had stayed in various wallets throughout the years. The pictures were faded now and it carried lines from me folding it. I have looked at the pictures a lot over the years: in holding cells, in detox places, in countless AA meetings, in hotel rooms when I couldn't sleep…and now.

**Twenty Seven**

Liam reminds me of Deacon.

Hell, maybe it is because everything reminds me of Deacon right now. It's been seventeen days since I've seen him or heard from. Last night at the grocery store I thought I heard his voice but it had been some twenty year old tourist looking for beer. And I had to turn off the radio because every song reminded me of him.

Still, Liam does have similarities to Deacon or at least the guy Deacon used to be. The talent, the music, the alcohol…they are all so familiar to me. He even smells like Deacon use to: whiskey and cologne. Or sort of like him at least.

And last night, just like so many nights with Deacon, I wanted to stay with Liam. I wanted to stay and make music. I wanted to stay and laugh. I wanted to stay and get drunk and forget about everything else.

**Twenty Eight**

I have coffee at my house.

Good coffee. Cheap coffee. Coffee I don't have to wait for. And if I wanted coffee I didn't make, I could have just gone to the diner. My diner. The diner that serves black coffee without ninety two toppings that come in weird named sizes.

But I'll be damned if I didn't drive to this stupid European bakery to get a cup. I'm pretty sure that every other person in here owns a Lexis or BMW. Hell, I'm probably the only person who doesn't live in a gated community.

But here I am. Drinking coffee with cinnamon and whatever foamed skim milk is. And I drink it slowly in that hopes that she'll stop by on her way to the Record label, like she normally does on Tuesday.

**Twenty Nine**

I need to be anywhere but here.

I need to be writing something. Or meeting with the Marshall again to try and convince him not to release my greatest hits album. Or I should be at cleaning something. Or…I should be sleeping since I didn't get much last night. I should be at Teddy's campaign headquarters helping him with the last few weeks of the campaign.

But here I am in East Nashville, sitting at a table drinking lukewarm coffee and eating overcooked eggs.

I look at my watch and realize he isn't coming today. Maybe…maybe he knows I'm here. Maybe he saw my car in the parking lot and just drove off. That would explain why he hasn't been here the last two mornings either.

I take another sip and look at my watch again. It won't hurt to just wait a few more minutes.

**Thirty **

He loves playing putt-putt.

No seriously. Loves it. I swear we've played every mini-golf course in America.

We use to play the old ones with the windmills and the big blocks as obstacles. But since then, we've played pirate ship courses, ghost town courses, Hawaiian theme course. We've played ones with dinosaurs and ones set in a faux jungle.

He is oddly competitive about it too; he actually makes us follow the rules. We have to keep score with the little pencils. And add an extra stroke if the ball goes in the water. And we can't use green balls because they blend into the green turf. He loves playing in the nicer courses that stay open at night and have prizes if you get a hole in one on the eighteenth hole.

Before we broke up, we would share a celebratory kiss on a good shot. Now we share playful high fives or one of us gives the other a pat on the back.

Or we did share high-fives and pats on the back. Now I guess that is over too.

I actually considered asking the girls if they wanted to go play at the little course down from the mall. But then I realize it was November in Tennessee and that place was closed.

**Thirty Two **

My bathroom is clean.

Scarlett has been here for a few weeks now. She has her run of the guest bedroom and the front bathroom. Scarlett has slowly put more and more of her girl things on the long sink and in the bathtub.

It reminds me of Ray.

When Rayna and I lived together before, I had like six inches of space in the bathroom for all of my stuff. Hell, she made me build her shelves which I thought meant I could have more space. That was wrong. She just got more places to put her stuff.

There was the hairdryer, and the thing that made her hair straight and the thing that made it curly. And for some reason she had to have the round brush and the square brush and the five different combs. Then there were the clips and the ribbons and bows.

And that was just for her hair.

Then there was five perfume bottles although she always uses the same one. And the lipstick, and the lipgloss, and chapstick. And the powder stuff and the liquid stuff. And the fingernail polishes and the silver thing that looked like some doctor's tool to make her eyelashes longer. And then there was the makeup remover and the facial soaps and moisturizers and creams and gels.

And the shower was worse. She had five different soaps, shampoos, conditioners, shaving cream and razors.

When we would be on the road, the same thing would happen. Fifteen minutes after checking into a hotel, the bathroom would have ten different things scattered around.

For almost a decade, I had no room in my own bathroom. I would get annoyed that she took an hour and half to look just like she did before she took a shower. I would make comments about too many brushes or having to carry her makeup bag and her other makeup bag.

When she moved out the first time, she left most of her stuff here. The tampons stayed under the sink, most of her makeup stayed in the drawers, and her nine extra mirrors remained on the counter space.

But then it happened. I'd come home after two nights of partying with some guys from the Roadhouse. I was still drunk and high on coke. And everything was gone, like it had been before. She'd taken her awards, her clothes, the picture of her Mama. But she'd done that before.

I passed out on the couch, telling myself I'd make things right when I sobered up.

Then I woke up and stumbled into the bathroom. There wasn't a ribbon, or lip gloss, or lotion anywhere. And that was when I realized she was gone. Really gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry this took a day or two longer than I was hoping & I'm not totally satisfied with it but it just needs to be done. This chapter covers Episode Seven. Thank you all for the comments and encouragements, they really do make it so much easier and fun to write. **

**CHAPTER 5**

**Thirty Three **

Rayna will leave Teddy.

I show my opponent the pictures of he and this Peggy Kentor, and I know I'm ending Teddy's marriage. Maybe not immediately. Maybe Rayna will buy whatever excuse Teddy gives her for the hand holding and hugs the two of them exchanged.

I've known her since she was born. She and Tandy have been like sisters to me. And, I've known Rayna far too long to think she will buy Teddy's lie. And more importantly, she won't want to believe it.

She bought Deacon's lies for years because she wanted to believe them. She needed to believe him. Deacon was her world and imagining him as not her everything was just too hard for her. Deacon promised her all kinds of things: he'd would get sober, he'd quit getting into fights, he'd stop the drugs, he'd stop going to Putnam Rd, he'd quit breaking her lamps, he'd make it to rehearsal on time. And she believed him.

But Teddy's different. Their relationship is different. It works because Teddy never crosses a line, never pushes her, never forces her into anything she doesn't want. Teddy knows he can't do that. He knows he can't do that because for years, Rayna's been looking for a reason to leave. Any excuse to leave.

So far, Teddy's never overstepped over the line or given her a reason to bolt. Until now.

Maybe these pictures won't do it immediately. The campaign, and the girls. and her career will be difficult for her to navigate. But she's wanted an excuse to leave him for Deacon and Teddy's finally given it to her.

**Thirty Four**

I accepted the band leader for the Edgehill Anniversary Party.

I knew I should turn it down when I got the phone call. But she'll be there. And I couldn't help but say yes.

I'll just lie to everyone else and tell them I needed another paying gig, or I'm doing it to help Juliette or…hell, it doesn't' even matter. I can say anything I want but everyone will see through it.

I smile at the memory of the first time we played at the Ryman. Hours before the show, Watty had taken us both on stage and told us to let it sink in. The afternoon sun had lit up the stained glass windows while we just stood there and soaked it in.

During the first song, she nearly dropped the microphone from nerves and my hands shook on the first few chords. But after that, the nerves died down but the excitement remained throughout our performance. Damn, I was excited to play the Ryman then.

And I'm more excited tonight than I was then. Just because I get to see her.

**Thirty Five**

He was wearing a green shirt.

He knows I don't like when he wears green. It makes his blue eyes look hazel, which always drives me crazy. Yet, he chose to wear that during the first rehearsal, after we hadn't seen each other in over a month.

And the scruff on his face is shorter than I like it. And he knows that too. And he his hair is brushed down. I prefer it crazier. More spiked or more un-brushed. And he knows that too. And he knows that I know exactly what he is doing. Five and half weeks after the last time I saw him, he decides to subtlety tell me that he's pissed.

But God….when I saw him, I didn't want to look away. I couldn't look away. Instead I just stared at him while he tried to look anywhere but at me. The conversation itself was mundane and stilted . I said I was fine. He said he couldn't complain about life. He made a comment about working with Liam. I tried to make some cute comment about mixing things up.

And despite the awkward conversation and the green shirt and the short beard and hair…he was still the most beautiful man I've ever seen.

**Thirty Six**

I do not like Liam McGuinness.

He has an ego on him. And he kept laughing when Rayna made a comment about Juliette's larceny. He openly flirted with the backup singers and played several rifts that messed up my songs. Well, mine and Rayna's songs.

He made several smart ass comments about how he openly loathed Marshall Evans…something about a party years before. And Rayna just rolled her eyes at him like an annoyed little sister. But she didn't say anything to him about playing nice or behaving himself.

And he was drinking out of that damn flask again today. And Rayna didn't say one thing to him. She didn't tell him to put it away or apologize to anybody for him taking another swallow of what smelled like whiskey.

And then I got so annoyed, I started yelling at Ray and Juliette. I was just tired of the stupid back-biting comments. And it was the second day in a row that I've seen Rayna and she's still acting like nothing has happened.

She still hasn't apologized to me about firing me. She still hasn't offered me my job back. Hell, she's found another person to write with her, to record with her, to play with her.

Okay so I don't like the guitar player right now but I'm liking Rayna even less.

**Thirty Seven **

We fought again today.

Over damn Juliette Barnes. Again. She told me that I was a has-been and she insulted my career. And he just sat there and let her say whatever the hell she wanted. Then I told the truth.

I took Edgehill from 6 rooms in a second floor rental to a four story building on Music Row. I had every booker, manager, and label tell me that I was too young, too pretty, too pop, to new, too spoiled, too stubborn, to ever become anything. I fought hard to get to sing our songs. I stood my ground when they wanted me to pose in lingerie for my album cover. I risked my contract when I performed an acoustic version of "Midnight Dancing" instead of the rock and roll version the label wanted. And this twenty something shakes her ass in white shorts and a corset and sings songs about flirting with guys to get what she wants….

And he defended her to me. He yelled at me for what I said to her but didn't say anything to her.

Instead he reminded me of my short-comings and how this is all my fault.

Then to twisted the knife further. He throws a CD on the table. It is of some damn song he and Juliette wrote together. To everyone else there he was trying to defend Juliette's writing. But that wasn't what he was doing.

But that wasn't why he did that. Nope. He wanted to remind me that they wrote together. And I know what that meant.

He turned to leave and didn't look back. And for a second, I couldn't keep my emotions in check. For a second I felt my lip tremble and saw my vision getting blurred with tears. But I held it in.

At least until I got into the car.

**Thirty Eight**

I can't stop thinking about the first time we played an anniversary party for Edgehill.

It had been the 5th Anniversary. They rented out Tootsies for the night. There had been cheap beer and appetizers. We were the only signed artist with a gold record. Well by that point we had two. And she'd just won the New Horizon award and we were in the middle of a 90 stop tour. That night, we'd performed two new songs and the four songs that we'd already made Top 25 hits.

It had poured rain during the whole show and the whole night. We'd gotten soaked from the short trip from bar to my truck. As I was driving back to our first apartment, I'd gotten distracted between the rain and Rayna's wet shirt and her wandering hands. I missed a turn and ended up at the entrance to some park I'd never heard of it. Then the rain got so hard, I couldn't see anything. So we made out in the truck for a while until the rain lessened. I asked her if she was ready to go. Rayna just laughed, took her pants off and jumped out of the truck with her camisole and panties on .

And I'd done what I always did….I followed her. We ended up having sex against the hood of the truck with the rain still soaking us. We were both half dressed and soaked to the bone.

Then the rain let up and the moon peaked through the rain clouds for just a minute. The moonlight hit the creek and the entire cobblestone bridge started to glow. With hair plastered to her face and rain drops stuck to her lips, she'd whispered that this was their place.

Our secret place. Of course, two days I had the worst cold ever but it was worth it.

**Thirty Nine  
**

I can't stop thinking about the Anniversary Party for the 15 Anniversary. Juliette is going on and on about whether to have a bridge or not and all I can think about is something that happened 10 years ago. Actually, it'd be 10 years ago this week.

And that alone blows my mind. I'd been pregnant with Daphne and nobody outside of Teddy and Tandy knew. But they served caviar and tequila sunrises and the smell had sent me to the bathroom.

Deacon found me, leaning over the toilet in my dressing room. He held my hair as I lost the contents of my lunch. Then when I weakly thanked him, he gave me a simple "Congratulations." I smiled weakly back and asked him how he knew.

For the first time in years, I'd saw him blush when he told me that "the girls were bigger."

My eyes had gotten wider and then we both looked down towards my chest for a minute. When I looked back at up at Deacon, I couldn't help but stare at his lips. And then he was looking staring at me back. The moment was broken up when the nauseous feeling came back and I got sick again. And he held my hair and then rubbed my back. He rubbed my back, just like I used to do for him when he drank too much. Then he got me some water from the bathroom sink and excused himself for a moment.

When Deacon came back, he plopped down on the tile floor with his guitar. He leaned in to my stomach and whispered "you need to give your mom a rest." I told him I didn't think the baby had ears yet but he didn't seem to care.

Five nursery rhymes later and I was still queasy and laying on the floor of the bathroom. So he changed gears and played 'Rose Colored Glasses'. He hadn't sung that to me in years….not since before Vince had died. But it had been Mama's favorite song and it always got to me. And I cried silent tears looking up at him while he kept his eyes focused on my still flat stomach. And by the end of the song, I didn't feel sick.

Then Bucky had interrupted us just gazing at each other. Deacon had excused himself again, this time under the pretense of making sure the band was ready to go on.

And it wasn't until I stood up off the floor that I realized the reason I didn't feel sick to my stomach was because my heart breaking all over again felt so much worse.

**Forty  
**

For seven seconds it was like it used to be.

During the second verse Rayna had made her way casually across the stage. She walked past me, and slowly stopped. Then she leaned back towards me and she flipped her hair. I caught a faint whiff of her shampoo; then she smiled at me as her shoulder met mine. And I couldn't help but smile back as her bare leg brushed against my jeans.

And two eight counts later, Juliette came up on the other side of me. And then Ray stepped away and went back to the other side of the stage.

Then for a moment, I was actually envious of Marshall Evans. After all, Ray's dress was damn short and he was sitting in the front row. And I started playing towards Juliette, with another smile on my face wondering what Ray would say if she knew what I was thinking.

And then I waited, cause I knew it was coming. And then she did it. Ray looked back at me with that soft smile and bit her lip and mouthed the word "hey". And I smiled back at her.

Maybe it was seven seconds for now but we were good again. And that was enough…for now.

**Forty One  
**

Bucky had my rider changed.

I didn't think about it when I walked backstage, still singing 'Wrong Song' in my head. I was still coming off the high of being on stage, at the Ryman, with new material, with Deacon there.

I knew something was wrong but I quickly turned my attention back to Buck. Liam had popped the champagne while Marshall agreed to let me release my new album. And then there were congratulations and Teddy had come in. And then we left right afterwards.

The flower arrangements were like they always were. Bright flowers on the coffee table and a bigger arrangement near the mirror. There was the bowl of cashews and the regular plate of cheeses. There was the plate of vegetables with the Ranch dressing in the middle. And then the three tiered platter of fruits…. The top bowl had tangerines, my favorite. Then golden delicious apples were in the next bowl and at the bottom were bright red apples, both of which I love.

But now I'm sitting in the passenger seat of the SUV, with the girls gushing about the performance. And Teddy is quiet. And I'm replaying what was in my dressing room…or what wasn't in my dressing room. I text Buck, _Change the rider back. _

And he responds with an 'K.' And he knows that I realized there were no pineapples in my dressing room. And despite the girls chattering way too loudly and Teddy's odd mood, I can't help but smile. Deacon and I are okay again, so I need pineapples.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Glad this one was a little shorter to the post than the last one! Thank you for the comments ( I told you they were encouraging! ) This is a little sad in places but so were the episodes. This covers Episode 8 and 9!**

**Thanks again for all the comments and messages!**

**Forty Two**

Cy was with me when I met Rayna.

And now he's offered me a job. With the Rebel Kings. The offer shocked the hell out of me. Actually, Cy and Jimmy's sobriety shocked the hell out of me, the job offer was just unexpected. And flattering. And completely crazy. And I'm considering it. Hell, I'd be an idiot to turn it down.

But I keep thinking about Cy asking what was keeping me in Nashville. At the time, I gave him a look and Cy had just smirked back, "She's still doing it for ya, huh?"

And I didn't say anything, just took a swig of my soda. Cy made a comment about how good Rayna looked at the Ryman, "still got those legs." And I didn't say anything to that either.

And now I am sitting on the front porch remembering the first time I met her like it was yesterday.

Me and Cy had been playing at the Lomax Inn on Friday nights. One of the bartenders heard about Watty White doing open auditions. We got a spot. Watty didn't like us enough to sign us but we became his go-to for back up bands. Five months later, he called us about a gig for some spoiled little rich girl. Cy had hit on her within a few minutes of meeting her and told her she had amazing legs.

Rayna saw straight through him and turned him down flat. I loudly announced, "ouch" before turning towards Rayna for the first time. I apologized for my friend's behavior, "he's not nearly as handsome or charming as he thinks he is."

And Rayna had smiled and her eyes flashed with fire. She'd made some comment about that clearly being a condition for the entire band. I still don't know what the rest of the band said in response. I was too busy looking at her.

And then my eyes narrow. I wonder if Cy has called her. They've always been close. She's been one of the few things Cy wanted that he never got. That made Rayna one of the few people he respected and liked. And he always made her laugh. Normally it was in mockery of him, but still it was laughter.

And then I wonder what she would say about the offer.

**Forty Three**

Teddy is sleeping in one the guestrooms.

And I don't miss him. I've slept without him hundreds of times before. But never when we were both home in Nashville. Even when things weren't going well or when we'd have a disagreement, he'd still sleep in our bed.

But he is lying about whatever is going on with him and Peggy Kenter. I saw the pictures. I know something is going on.

And I keep thinking about the girls having to face the rumors at school. And Maddie is old enough to understand what an affair is. And despite everything, both of the girls worship the ground Teddy walks on. And this could crush them.

And then there is Coleman. He is the closest thing to a brother I've ever had. Now he's become Daddy, or at least he's a lot more like Daddy than he use to be. But so is Tandy. Hell, so is Teddy.

**Forty Four**

She didn't ask me to stay.

We were at our place, our secret place. We were together, sitting side by side on one of the picnic tables that was added a few years back.

Rayna confessed that Teddy was complicated. She said their relationship was complicated. And then she started talking about how much the girls thought Teddy hung the moon.

And I sighed out loud. That asshole probably cheated on her and she wasn't leaving him. She hadn't done what my Ray would have done. My Ray would have changed the locks after throwing his crap all over the front lawn. And bruised several of his body parts. She hadn't even seemed mad or upset about it. Just melancholy.

And then I changed the subject and told Ray about my job offer. And she smiled brightly. It wasn't the fake smile she gives people when she's pretending she's happy about something. She seemed actually happy for me about the Rebel Kings.

And then I asked her. I asked what she thought about me taking the job. And she didn't ask me to stay. She didn't even hint that she wanted me stay. I was looking for a sign, something in her eyes or a strain in her voice that told me to stay. But there wasn't one.

Instead she started mumbling about us having to take our own path, or different forks in the road, or going over some bends in the river…or some bullshit like that. And then we looked at each other. And I knew what she's telling me. She couldn't ask me to stay. And I nodded back slightly understanding.

And we spoke for a few more minutes before she leaned over and rested her head on my shoulder.

And I didn't move at all. I didn't say anything. I just closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of her hair. And then all too soon she whispered that she needed to get ready for the press conference. Ray told me to let her know my decision, but she already knew what it was. And so did I.

And even once I heard her car pull off, I just sat there.

**Forty Five**

Deacon bought me an engagement ring.

It wasn't nearly as big as the rock I saw on Juliette's hand today. But it was prettier, if I do say so myself. I don't know when he bought it exactly but while he was in rehab for the second time, I found it.

He'd been gone for three weeks by that point and neither his pillow nor his usual t-shirts smelt like him anymore. So I was trying to find something else to lay down with. And in the third drawer, under his mismatched socks was the box. The same kind of box my birthday earrings came in.

I'd run my hand over the box, appreciating the velvet softness before I mustered up the courage to open it.

Then I shut it just as quickly, and placed the box back. But five minutes later, I couldn't help myself. I went back and got the box out again. I'd lain on our bed for an hour looking at it. But I didn't dare take it out of the box. And from time to time afterwards, when I knew Deacon was gone for a while, I'd check to see if it was still there. And it was, every bit as beautiful and no where closer to being on my finger.

The last time I saw the ring was the day I moved out. The last time I moved that is. Tandy had already let with one card load. After my clothes, awards, my toiletries, and pictures were packed up I came back into the house one more time. I'd cried out everything I had by that point. And I was just….mad. Mad at him, mad at me, mad at bartenders and alcohol, and Vince for dying.

Out of sheer anger, I marched into the bathroom and went digging through the laundry basket. And I found the extra bottle of whiskey where he always hid it. I threw the glass against the tub wall and watched it shatter, spilling its glass and brown liquor all over the tub and me. Then I cleaned it up, crying the whole time.

With the smell of whiskey still covering my hand, my eyes settled on the dresser. And slowly I walked over and pulled out the drawer. And I found the box. And for the first time, I slipped the ring. My hand was still wet from cleaning up the bottle and one of my nails was chipped from the bottle. But it felt so right.

And after I cried for what felt like forever, I took it off. It was then I caught the inscription. 'Like I do.' I placed the ring back in the box and threw it back in the drawer, not even caring to place it back the way it was before.

**Forty Six**

I don't like interviews.

At all. I don't like talking about myself or bragging.

But I sure as hell am not doing one about Vince. And Rayna. And me. And I know Amy is asking not because she's a report, but because she cares. And because she misses Vince. And because she's always been attracted to me.

Rayna almost beat her ass one night when Amy's hand got near my crotch. And that thought alone makes me smile.

Amy and Vince had always been friends with benefits and they'd been that for each other for years. Nothing too serious or too involved. And Vince fucked other girls, she fucked other guys. But they were still close. Or closer than they were with anybody else.

But I don't want to think about it right now. I sure as hell don't want to talk about. So I make a wisecrack and turn off the recorder.

**Forty Seven**

Glenn asked me if I was okay.

So did Buck. So did Liam. So did the security guard at the recording studio. And I say I'm fine to each of them. I lied to them. They know I lied to them.

**Forty Eight**

My wife told me she was unhappy.

She didn't tell me she was angry at me. Or devastated by my actions. Instead she told me that she loved me. But that for the last few years she doesn't know if she's been happy. And then mentioned she didn't know if I'd been happy either.

And I couldn't say anything or do anything. I just stood there. What was I suppose to say when she started talking about the state of marriage? Was I supposed to tell her that I have been happy, that I've been hanging on with everything I have? Was I supposed to say the reason I ran for Mayor was to make her proud? Was I suppose to tell her that I wanted to the job to give her a reason to focus more on our family and less on her career?

And then Rayna started talking about the tour being a cover for our marriage problems. And then I managed to get out a calm few lines about that being a good idea and wanting to make our marriage work.

But the worst part is while I will spend the night pacing in the guest room and feeling like I might break in two, she will sleep peacefully. She'll sleep fine cause she is finally saying what she's wanted to for years.

**Forty Nine**

My head doesn't hurt from the loud music.

That may be part of it but that isn't all of it. And despite the Tylenol and the hours it's been since I left the arena, my head still hurts. And even after having sex with Amy twice, it hurts.

And then I walk over to the hotel window and take in the view, watching as the people below started their morning. And my head still hurts.

Nothing makes sense right now. I've still got hairspray in my hair from like 18 hours ago. Ray has an arena tour. Juliette is getting married to some NFL player she met a split second ago. And Ray didn't mention anything to me about this tour. And Juliette and Rayna are going on tour together. Coleman is losing the race at this point despite Teddy's affair…or whatever it is. And Rayna is going to have to get a new guitar player on this arena tour.

And if I wanted to be really honest with myself, it is the last one that is making my head hurt.


	7. Chapter 7

**THANK YOU SO MUCH TO MY REVIEWERS! A special shoutout to BeckyPo for her incredibly generous comments and help :) . As always, thank you so much for every review and PM! This chapter encompasses Episode 10. **

**Hope you enjoy!  
**

**CHAPTER 7 **

**Fifty **

I always wanted to go to summer camp.

When I was a little kid, I'd beg my mom to let me go to Camp Brown Bear. It was a camp about three hours away that had campfires, and archery, and a secret brown bear handshake. There was even a picture on the brochure that had a big lake with huge diving boards and a big inflatable blob thing you could jump on.

But we couldn't afford it and I was allergic to poison ivy. Plus Mama always said she'd miss too much. I told Rayna about Camp Brown Bear one night after we made a sang at some half empty bar outside of Knoxville. I told her how I'd always wanted to sleep under the stars and learn to canoe. She kissed my cheek while I pouted and said "poor baby."

Then about four years later, the two of us had somehow managed to get off for six days right before Thanksgiving. Vince and I made plans to go fishing for the afternoon after Ray told me she was going to see Tandy.

When I came home that night, our living room was bathed only in the glow of the fireplace. Once my eyes adjusted, I realized the couch and the chairs had been turned to face opposite walls. And over the back of the furniture, Ray had draped every sheet and blanket we owed, creating a huge tent.

Under the tent were two sleeping bags, my camouflage one and some nice blue one I'd never seen before. To the right was the fireplace, with a couple of stretched out wire hangers leaning against the harth. To the right of the hangers, was a plant of raw hot dogs and buns with mustard, ketchup, and the her homemade chili.

On one wall was a huge poster that Ray had painted with the words "WELCOME TO CAMP BROWN BEAR". On the opposite wall, she made signs pointing to the craft hut, the swimming pool, and the dining hall. There was a smaller piece of paper with bunch of made up names and their assigned camp counselor. According to that sign, I'd been assigned to Counselor Jaymes. She'd even put glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling…you know, like the kind little kids put up in their rooms.

And while I was still taking it all it, Ray had appeared, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. She'd been wearing the shortest khaki shorts I'd ever seen. And she'd taken a button up white shirt and tied it tightly right under her breasts so it was basically covering nothing more than her bra did.

She'd worn a whistle around her neck, drawing even more attention to the girls. And she had some ridiculous hat that looked like the kind guys wore fly fishing over her pigtails.

That night, we'd grilled hotdogs over the fireplaces, then I played my guitar for her under the glowing stars.

Later, she pulled out chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers from the kitchen to make smores. And then the two of us had fun when the chocolate started to melt on our fingers...and other body parts.

Then I showed her my version of the brown bear handshake in order to get into her sleeping bag. We didn't leave the house for another day and half and stayed under the tents for two more nights. It took until the day for us to make it to the the master bathroom. She'd put up signs all over the mirror and the tile which rules like 'You must swim with a partner.'

She was always doing stuff like that. She'd store away the littlest story I told her, then weeks, months, even years later would surprise in the most amazing ways.

And when she'd do something like that, I would always say thank you and tell her I loved her in between kisses. And Ray would do that adorable giggle thing and say something like, she'd only make a fool out of herself for me.

**Fifty One **

My second guitarist quit today.

In as many weeks. And both of them basically called me a diva on their way out the door. Buck said he'd try to find somebody else but didn't know if he'd be able to find anybody that I was satisfied with.

I'm not being a diva, I'm being particular. You don't get CMA and Grammy awards, multi-platinum CDs, and arena tours without being particular. And I just happen to want things to sound the exact way Deacon plays.

**Fifty Two**

I don't take redheads home.

Or even women with more strawberry than blonde in their hair. I stick to brunettes or bleach blondes.

But never redheads. Maybe, I'm afraid of getting a little too lost in some random girl. Maybe I'm afraid of rolling over in the middle the night and thinking, even for a second, it's her. Maybe I'm just not attracted to any of redhead besides Ray. I don't rightly know exactly the reason I don't sleep with that's just my rule.

Until last night.

I don't even remember her name but she was a pretty little thing. And she clearly wanted an invitation back to the hotel. And she got one. And afterwards, she wanted to do the small talk thing. But I just couldn't bring myself to lay there. I was too polite to kick her out. Instead I pretended I had a late meeting with the sound check guy.

So then I walked around downtown until I was sure she'd either gone home or fallen asleep. And since then I've been to two meetings, one with the band in one of the hotel meeting rooms. The second was at a church a few miles away. I said nothing at either.

Tomorrow, Scarlett and Gunnar will be here. That'll be a good distraction for a few days.

**Fifty Three **

Yeah, I lied.

Deacon and I did make out when we were in the upper decks. And sometimes we would even get handsey when there was no one around. We'd only had actual sex twice up in the balconys. Considering all the tours we ever done, that actually isn't a high number. But the second time, we traumatized a member of the cleaning crew. After that we decided if things got to hot and heavy up, we'd take it to my dressing room. Or his prep room. Or an empty stairwell.

But I was telling the truth about the main reason Deacon and I always went up there. It was a tradition Deacon started back when I was the opening act for Alan Jackson. Deacon said he wanted us to remember to play to the people he used to be. He always reminded me that people paid good money to come see us. And we should play to them as much as we should play to the VIPs. It was one of the many reasons I loved him.

He always put things in perspective for me. He always made sure I saw the big picture and kept me focused on exactly what I wanted. Ironically enough, he was always terrible at doing that for himself.

**Fifty Four**

Two security guards had to pull me of Cy.

They were big guys too. But before they got to me, I'd already thrown Cy through a damn table and had him on his back. Even after yelled that I quit, Cy said something else smart ass and I went back for more. But Scarlett stopped me and drug me out. Still. I've been in two fights since I got sober. Both of them have been since Ray and I sang at The Bluebird.

But when Coleman called me this morning, I didn't mention that to him. I just told him that he'd made a pass at Scarlett and after she kicked him in the balls, I'd quit.

And now I'm out of a job. Again. But I'm actually glad about it this time. I needed an excuse to leave this circus.

**Fifty Five**

I just caught a commercial for Black Friday savings at Target.

It reminds me how I use to spend those Thursday nights when Deacon and I were together. For whatever reason, we almost always had a few days around Thanksgiving to go home. Some years it was a day or two, and others a few days longer. Deacon's sister always spent it at her in-laws house. And so we'd generally head back to Nashville.

Normally Deacon and I made an appearance at Daddy's house for lunch. Coleman use to come and bring whoever his girlfriend at the time was. When they were still married, Tandy and Charlie would come over. And my aunt when she was alive would be there too.

Deacon and I would strategically get there ten minutes before lunch was served and then take the dessert to go. Generally speaking, that gave Daddy minimal time to hound me about my career. Still, Daddy always managed to get in a comment about Deacon refusing to wearing a jeans to Thanksgiving lunch.

Then we'd head north to Kentucky in Deacon's truck. In the later years, we'd go in the SUV. I'd have the hot chocolate in a thermos and snacks for the road. We would have blankets, gloves, scarves, hats in the floorboard and a sled, rope, and a couple of axes in the back. It generally took up about three hours to get up to Starr Farms.

He and I would go up on the mountain and pick out our own Christmas was a tradition he'd done with his Dad as a child on Thanksgiving Day and one that he shared with me. Only with me.

Once the tree was secured to the vehicle, the two of us would head back home. That night the tree we'd always put the tree up. And even though we'd always been exhausted, we would always do what my mom and I did on Thanksgiving night. We would watch White Christmas on an old VHS tape while we at the pumpkin pie we took from Daddy's house.

I still watch White Christmas on Thanksgiving night, but I normally do it by myself. The girls don't like the movie now that they are older and Teddy is normally watching sports. But Deacon still goes to Starr Farms every year.

In the last couple of years, I'll call when I start the movie. During the non-song parts, he describes the kind of tree he picked out and fills me in on how Coleman and Audrey are doing. I share with him the many different ways Daddy was unpleasant during lunch and how bad Tandy messed up on the stuffing.

I just happen to look up the Revel Kings concert schedule. And they have a concert on Thanksgiving night in Chicago. So there will be no tree for him. No phone call for me.

But maybe that is a good thing. Maybe, I need to be creating new traditions. Maybe the girls and I will start watching some other movie together.

I bite my lip and look up to try and stop from crying. But a few tears manage to leak out before my driver calls. And I have to catch that plane back to Nashville for the election results.

**Fifty Six**

My sister and I are very different people.

She's always been loud and I'm quiet. She's always been artistic and emotional. I've always been more calm and more rational about things. Since I was a little girl, I've always gravitated towards Daddy. Rayna has always pushed him away. I can count the number of times I snuck out of Daddy's house as a teenager. Meanwhile, Rayna moved out a few months before she turned seventeen. She's a mom and a wife and one of the most recognizable women in the country. She wears sparkly skirts, poses for magazine covers, sings songs with her ex-lover, and has always had people fawning all over her. In other words, she is very much the opposite of me.

But there isn't a person I love more than Rayna Lynn. That's what Mama use to call her. And Mama used to call me Tandy Mae. And tonight, Ranya Lynn became Mrs. Mayor-Elect. And Mrs. Mayor-Elect looked like she wanted to kill me while she was on stage.

But I was just a tad too drunk on expensive wine and the taste of victory to care. Besides, Rayna at least looked at me with some emotion tonight. She practically looked through Teddy the whole night. The only time she even cracked an authentic smile was to something the girls said.


	8. Chapter 8

**Not totally thrilled with this chapter. I was hoping to have this chapter combining Episodes 11 and 12. But alas, this is only Episode 11. This is kind of a depressing chapter but so was the episode I suppose. As always, every comment and PM are amazing & I can't thank you all for the continued support. It soo makes me want to write more! Thank you again!**

**CHAPTER 8**

**Fifty Seven**

I have been sober for 4,420 days

I take my ten year chip out of my billfold and palm the medal in my hand. I look down at Vince's ring. The one I've worn since his mama gave it to me after the funeral. I've never taken it off. And for a moment I let my anger go at that damn article.

And that was a mistake. 'cause the need to punch the wall is replaced by a want to just sit down and cry.

4, 420 days.

I'm proud of that number. But I also hate that number. Add two and half years to get how long how Vince has been dead. Subtract about eight months from the number to get the last time I kissed Rayna. Add almost a year to the total to get the last time Ray and I made love.

My eyes wander to the bullshit magazine lying on the floor. The floor she and I sat on for years when we were writing songs. The floor we made love on. The floor she walked when I was doing what I later couldn't remember. And then I make my way to the bedroom.

And because I'm a masochist and a glutton for punishment I head to my dresser. Third drawer. And reach around until I feel the velvet box. I haven't looked at it in years. The top of the box is missing some of the velvet; it's where I rubbed it off years ago with my her wedding day alone, I must have rubbed the box thousands of times while I held it in my hand.

But I learned a long time ago, that box makes me wish for a life I don't have. I can deal with the memories. Hell, I live for the memories. But imagining what might have been and what could have been. Like….what would happen if I proposed to her all those years ago or how I would have proposed to her? Or what if I'd sobered up before my 5th time in rehab. Or what if I'd stopping her from leaving when she reached for the handle in my truck after we sang at the Bluebird? That thought leads me to crave a drink.

I put the box back in the drawer without ever opening it. I whisper to myself "one day at a time." 4, 420 one days at a time later and I'm still rubbing the damn box.

**Fifty Eight **

I keep hearing what Calista said over and over again in my head.

"I know how hard leaving is…but it doesn't make staying right." She was talking about me leaving Edgehill for Countless. But I keep hearing her words over and over again in my head. It sounds like something Deacon would say. Actually, it sounds more like a lyric Deacon would write. I haven't heard his voice in weeks. And then I feel a pit in my stomach again, thinking about the article I read on the plane.

I know it's not true. I'd know if was drinking again. Every cop and bartender in Nashville would know. So would Coleman. Deacon would be over at picking fights and breaking everything in sight. But even without a public arrest or a call from Coleman, I'd know.

Like the night of the wreck. I knew something was wrong before the phone rang. And when Deacon nearly died a few months later from alcohol poisoning…I knew he was in trouble before the house phone pinged. The time Deacon ran to the grocery store to get toothpaste and was gone for thirty five minutes…I knew he'd fallen off the wagon then too.

I told Tandy a long time ago that when Deacon died, I'd know before anybody told me. I'd know before the hospital called or the police showed up. And just thinking about that leads me to search the kitchen for my car keys.

And I hear Caslista's words again in my head, letting them slosh around in my head as I close the door.

**Fifty Nine**

I literally cannot move.

My legs are shaking and I'm pretty sure if I take a step in any direction, I'll topple over. So I just keep looking at the left side of his house, willing him to come back. Waiting for him to come back.

I remind myself he hasn't been drinking. He smelled only of his cologne. He didn't stumble when he walked. He didn't rip up the sign and he didn't kick the side of the house. He is still sober.

That is something. No. That is everything. I can take whatever he dishes as long as long as he isn't drinking.

And I look towards the front door, hopeful that maybe he's let himself in the backdoor and walked around. But he still isn't coming.

And my legs are on more solid ground now. But I still can't move. Now I'm afraid of throwing up if I so much as lift one of my arms. He's never verbalized that I'm unhappy with Teddy before. We don't talk about that. He doesn't talk about that. But he just did. And he did with that smile. The smile that wasn't a real smile. It's one I haven't seen in so long that I'd forgotten what it looked like. Thinking of that smile sends shivers down my back. That smile, was the smile he had when he was drunk. It was the one he gave when he was ready to toil out some sage piece of what he, in his drunken condition, considered a truth.

Then I turn my head to see the for sale sign and my head starts spinning. He's selling our house. It haven't referred to it as mine house or our house in years. Neither has he. He bought me out a few years after he got sober. It was something I didn't want to do but I couldn't think of a single reason to say no. He's probably has had countless women in our bedroom since then. He's probably created a million memories that aren't of me or us. And the truth is, I don't care. I still consider it my house. I feel warm and I'm pretty sure I see black dots out of the corner of my eyes. And I look back up at the front door and around the side of the house. And he's still not coming back.

Deacon practically spat out the last words he said to me. He'd only used that tone a few times with me. And every one of them, I'd excused because he reeked of alcohol. But not this time. No this time he was sober and selling our house.

He told me I'd lost faith in him and he did that knowing "hmm" thing he use to do. His eyes were sparkling in anticipation of seeing me hurt. A look that even at his worst, he rarely gave me. That look was the one he gave Daddy, or Buck, or Coleman, or his sister, or some police officer, or stranger at a bar. But not me.

And still I'm standing in front yard. And he's not coming back. But my legs still won't move. And my stomach is still rolling. And I can't make my eyes focus completely. So I just stand in the front yard and remind myself to breathe.

**Sixty **

I had every intention of going to that damn party.

I had every intention of going to the Party. Sure, I've missed a couple of parties thrown by the label. "Black" went gold a few weeks after Vince's death. I was drunk at some bar. "Behind Me" hit the top of the charts when I was in that center in Georgia. But I still have those stupid plaques with the fake records and the dates on them. I've always gotten one at those parties. And although the writing and the size and color changes, it always has both of our names on it.

But tonight for the first time Rayna Jaymes's top hit won't have my name attached to it. I didn't have any part in writing it. I didn't pick a single chord or tweak the bridge. I'll be a guest at the party. I'll be Juliette's guest as some sort of babysitter for Jolene.

But I am still going. I pick out a black shirt and jeans. I put out my newer black boots. I turn on the radio listening to the end of Watty's show when he mentions the Mayor would be presenting the plaque to Ray and Juliette.

It surprises me how fast my fist clinches and how tight my jaw feels. Teddy has no damn business in our world. He can't play chopsticks on the piano. He can't write a decent birthday card, much less a song.

And I've seen the pictures of Teddy and whoever the hell that girl is. I know Rayna had her suspicions about Teddy's infidelity. But he'll be up there tonight smiling with her, kissing her, being a part of her big night. And I'll be off on the sideline. Off the stage, near the back with Jolene. I sit on the bed, trying to calm myself down.

I have done so much to her. I've lied to her. I've disappointed her. I've yelled at her. I've thrown her things. I've broken the kitchen table we picked out together. I've smashed several of those plaques like the kind she'll get tonight. I've busted out the windows of her car. I've made her walk the halls of old county jails to bail me out. I've had her clean up my vomit. I've made her go to places she shouldn't even know existed. Hell, she was held at knife point by some guy on crack when she tried to find me once. That night is what sent me back to rehab the second time.

But I've never cheated on her. I never even thought about kissing another woman when we were together. Sure, I had girls hit on me but I literally could have cared less. And perfect little Teddy has. Or at least I think he has. And right now that is enough.

I don't even know who I am madder at. Me: for not getting my shit together faster; her:for not waiting four more months and for not walking away from Teddy, or Teddy: for existing.

There is a saying about best of intentions and right now, it is so true.

**Sixty One**

I broke my guitar.

Smashed it against the coffee table in three good hits. I'm outta practice. Back in the dark days, I could smash a guitar made far better than this one, in a single blow.

But the damn thing pissed me off. I was all set to write a song with sharp chords and a jagged chorus. It was suppose to be a 'fuck off' song. That was the song I wanted to write. But that damn guitar wanted to write some ballad…or worse, some 'Baby I'm wrong, come back' songs. And when the lyrics started coming together, I knew the only way to stop it was to break the guitar.

Doesn't matter. It isn't my only guitar. Far from it. I have more expensive guitars. But they are all in the spare bedroom. And I'm done writing for now.

**Sixty Two **

I'm a member of the Mile High Club.

So is Deacon. Deacon, who I can't look at. Deacon, who is sitting beside Juliette who I can't look at it either.

So I look out into the clouds and close my eyes. My mind is going a million miles an hour. It's replaying the fight Deacon and I had yesterday. It's replaying the conversation Teddy and I just had in the terminal. It's replaying the fight Liam and I just had at the party. And I don't want to think about any of those things. And the clouds are lulling me into remembering another time, in another plane. So i just go with it.

Deacon and I were flying back from the West Coast on a red eye, next to last row in the back of hundred seater-plane or so. The cabin was only about a third full. Most of the passengers were sleeping, but a few had their lights on reading.

I hadn't paid attention when Deacon's hand pushed the arm rest between us up. But when his hand rested on my hip and slid back to grope my ass, I started paying attention. He'd cocked his eyebrow and then shot a look to the back of the cabin. In response, I rolled my eyes dramatically. But he hadn't been dissuaded.

Ten minutes later, I had one of those scratchy blankets over my lap. And the button of my jeans was undone and his hand was practically making me pant. And then, he'd whispered exactly what he wanted to do in bathroom. And once he was sure he'd changed my mind, Deacon excused himself and walked towards the bathroom. He'd shot me a smile over his shoulder when he pushed the door open. And for about thirty seconds I stayed perfectly still, telling myself I wouldn't go.

But like always, I'd given in to Deacon's smile.

And twenty minutes later, we were both back in our seats giggling like school kids. I'd fallen off the sink twice and jabbed my hip against the faucet. Deacon had banged the hell out of his head and despite the dark cabin, I could tell it was turning an ugly shade of blue. But it had been good, so good. Like it always was with us.

Nowadays, we would have both been kicked off the flight, arrested for something, and caused an international scandal. Back then? We'd gotten a smirk from a guy reading a book who had thought of us as two horny kids on a late flight. Yep, that smile could make me do anything.

And if I turn my head back to the right, I have no idea what I'll see. But I'm not looking. I don't know what he's doing on this plane but if I look at Deacon right now he's going to know what I'm thinking about. He'll know I'm thinking of him.

And until I know what he is thinking, I'm not looking.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks for all the comments & PMs. They are loved and appreciated more than you can know. This is more of a continuation of Chapter 8 but my brain wouldn't cooperate with me to write it all at once. So not sure how this flows as seperate units but here we go anyway.**

**This chapter revolves around Episode 12. Hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 9 **

**Sixty Three**

We've had an awkward elevator ride before.

Deacon, Vince, and I were trapped on an elevator in Scotland once. Edinburgh to be specific. It had been my first European tour. Well less than a tour, more like a 9 city leg to introduce me to the Euro that point.

Deacon and I went sightseeing during the day between interviews and sound check. Then after the show, the three of us went out to "have a more authentic cultural experience" as Vince would call it. Generally, for Vince, "authentic culturally experiences" meant drinking in a bar with locals and taking a girl with an accent back to his hotel. But that particular night, Vince had struck out with every girl in the bar.

So we headed back to the hotel, all three of us stumbling and laughing at nothing in particular. In our inebriated state, we decided to take the elevator as opposed to the steep stairs. The elevator itself was old, one of those European ones that were put in after decades after the hotel was built. Somehow we'd all decided it would be a cool idea to all jump in the elevator at the same time. Yeah, that had not been one of our better collaborative efforts.

It was tight and cramped and for two and half hours we were stuck in there. Forty minutes in and sobering up, Deacon remembered he had a box of playing cards he'd bought as a souvenir earlier in the day.

Vince had been the one to suggest strip poker. Considering Deacon and I saw each other naked all the time, this seemed more like a game to let Vince see me naked. So, Deacon and I gave each other a look and plotted with a smile. We managed to get Vince completely naked before either one of us lost our shoes.

And naked Vince, in a Scottish elevator, for over an hour, with a hotel manager yelling at us from the floor below and Bucky yelling at us from the floor above…still not as awkward as whatever Deacon and I did in the elevator just now.

And my phone has been vibrating like crazy since I turned it back on. 7 text messages and three voicemails from Teddy. And as uncomfortable and weird as whatever that elevator ride was with Deacon, this phone call to Teddy is going to be so much worse.

**Sixty Four**

I told her that I loved her for the time in Chicago.

I'd been thinking about telling her for weeks. But every time I did, the lump in my throat made it impossible for me to say anything.

I'd written songs telling her I loved her but hadn't actually played them for her, so that didn't count. I'd written love letters with those three words, but I didn't give them to her, so that didn't count either.

But I did everything I could to show her how I felt. I'd write her notes on the bathroom glass when her shower would fog it up calling her beautiful, I'd buy her daisies for no reason, I let her lick the middle of my Oreos. But I still hadn't said the words.

And then Watty set us up with Cal Blocky, a major booker for the Midwest. And we'd driven to Chicago for a three day get-to-know you audition. During dinner, Ray didn't eat a lot for fear of how it would appear. Something about eating too much making her look like a poor starving artist and way too un-lady like. So afterwards, I found some deep dish pizza and something cinnamon to take back to the room.

That night, I just blurted it out while Ray stuffed her mouth with a slice of black olive and sausage pizza. Her blue eyes had gotten wide for a moment. Then she broke into a huge smile, chewed the rest of the pizza and swallowed. After that, she leaned over and whispered, "Babe, you know I love you too."

Then she ate the entire dessert by herself as I just watched her. Eventually, the pizza box ended up on the floor and later that night so did we.

**Sixty Five**

I am wearing a very short dress tonight.

It's one of two dresses that my buyer got for the tour. Sure, I've worn pants for every show thus far. And I'll admit that tonight I planned to wear those leather pants with the gold top that cost a fortune . But then, I changed my mind.

Today. After our plane landed. And it has nothing to do with Deacon being on our tour now. It has nothing to do with how much Deacon likes my legs.

**Sixty Six**

I met Collin today.

Nice guy. He does the fire and smoke stuff for Juliette. He has a fancy title: 'Pryotech and Fog Specialist'. He has two children. Both boys. And he had a great joke about blondes. And Collin just happened to be standing outside of Rayna's door after the show. And her door was open.

And while I don't know Collin very well, I do know Ray. And I knew if I stood there, in the open doorway longer than a few minutes, she would find a reason to talk to me. And she did. And I pretended like I couldn't wait for the conversation to end. And I know that pissed her off. So I agreed to stay out of her way. It might help me figure out what I'm doing here.

The truth is, I'm not really sure what I'm doing here. I'm here to work. I'm here to play. I'm here to write music. I'm here to show the world that I'm sober. I'm here to make a living. Those are all true things. But the truth is, I'm here for something else. I'm just not sure what that something else is: To piss off Rayna? Or prove something to Rayna? Or be close to Rayna? I don't even know for sure.

But I do know Collin's invitation to grab a burger sounded good. And considering I'd just told Ray I'll stay away from her, I need to avoid all pizza places with 3 blocks of the hotel.

**Sixty Seven**

He's wearing green again.

I watch him from the the peephole on the door.

Its early. And he's walking towards Juliette's Penthouse with his guitar in hand. He looks rested and focused. I know I should go out and say something but instead I just stand there watching him through the circular glass. Like a stalker. Like a pathetic schoolgirl. Like...a creepy ex-girlfriend.

I wait a few extra minutes, until I'm sure he's cleared out of the hallway.I am on my way to meet Watty for breakfast. And he and I have a lot to go over. I don't try to contain my smile as I push the button for the lobby. I know Deacon and Juliette have slept together.

But he clearly didn't spend the night with her last night. And for reasons I don't want to think about, I'm happy about it.

**Sixty Eight**

There have only been a hand full of times when we didn't speak to each other.

Well actually just three. The last time was just a few months ago, when she fired me. I couldn't speak to her then.

The time before that were the weeks after she came back from her honeymoon.

And the only other time was when Ray announced she was getting a tattoo for her twenty-first birthday. She'd been drunk at the time, so I paid it no mind. But a few days later, she drug me into a parlor in Tampa to get my opinion on the design.

She wanted a treble clef on her ankle. Or a pair of glasses with pink tint as a tribute to mom on her shoulder. Then she mentioned a flower on her hip.

I laughed at her. Then I forbid her from getting one.

She stormed off. I apologized but then accidentally called her childish for wanting one in the first place.

She was so mad at me she didn't even speak when I got back to the room. Instead she threw a pillow at me and pointed to the floor. The next morning, she'd gotten dressed without so much as saying 'hey'. At rehearsal that day, I'd tried to make things better but that didn't work.

For two days, we stayed in the same hotel room but she didn't speak to me at all. Every time I tried to apologize or say anything, she'd just raise her eyebrow and say nothing back.

Then finally I just grabbed her and kissed her, pushing her against the bathroom wall. The kiss had been slow and long and deliberate. And then I'd just walked outside and waited. And a few minutes later she came outside sniffling. Ray said she was sorry and I was so glad she said anything to me that I'd just gathered her in my arms. I whispered against her forehead that I'd drive her to get the damn tattoo. She'd just sniffled again and admitted I was right. She said she was just being impulsive and stupid.

A few weeks later, she's surprised me with one of those specialty rub on tattoos. You know, the kind that comes off after about a week. She had my name tattooed with a capital 'I' and a red heart above it.

She had placed it very low on her right hip. I must have run my thumb over the ink a hundred times until it faded completely. Then for Christmas the next year, another non-permanent tattoo had been on my "I wanna be naughty list."

And apparently we aren't talking again now. I stayed completely quiet as she tried to talk to me in the elevator.

I've ridden the elevator four times so far, and I've been alone with her for two of those rides. She's the one who told me how awkward it was for that I was here. So I stayed quiet. Then she baited me by making fun of Boys and Buses and I almost snapped at her. But I had no clue what would come out of my mouth if I started talking.

So I just pushed myself off the medal handrail and exited as quickly as I could. So I guess we aren't talking again.

**Sixty Nine**

Here we go again.

This morning over breakfast, Rayna told me about her parting ways with Liam McGuiness. It really is a shame. She let me hear the new tracks she recorded and they are wonderful. The songs are new and exciting but they are also clearly Rayna Jaymes' songs .

We split our breakfast meeting discussing her new label, potential collaborators to help her finish her upcoming album, and an idea I've been toying with for my radio show. I felt good about the changes I was seeing in Rayna. She didn't appear to be stuck in the rut she'd been in the last few times I've seen her. As I drank my second cup of coffee, I smiled thinking she'd finally and truly moved on. She hadn't mentioned Deacon at all. It was better for both Rayna and Deacon this way.

But then tonight, I watch as Rayna and I stand on the side of the stage and listen to Juliette and Deacon. I make some comment to Rayna about it being odd to see Deacon up on stage without her. The look in her eyes says it all.

Tonight on the limo ride back to the hotel, I'll tell her that her act has never been better. I'll tell Rayna I think it's a good thing that she and Deacon have finally put some space between them. She'll listen to me. For a while.

But Rayna is stubborn as a mule. She's going to do exactly what she wants to do. She always has done exactly what she wants, regardless of what everybody else thinks or says. It one of the reasons she's been so successful. It's also one of the reasons that I know she won't stand to keep Deacon at arms' length for long. She's doesn't want to let Deacon go. Never has.

That was as evident as ever a few months ago at the Bluebird. I saw Deacon and Rayna sitting in his beat up car after that impromptu performance. They were in there for at least ten minutes before I pulled my cell phone out. I had every intention of calling Rayna's cell phone to disturb whatever was going in that car. But then Rayna had thrown open the passenger side door and ran to her own car.

Based on the look in her eyes tonight, she wouldn't run out of Deacon's car now. As my own grandmother used to say, "Hunker down boys, because here we go."

**Seventy **

I have butterflies.

And my lips are burning. And I unconsciously lick my lips. My hands are still moving, fidgeting with each other. And I can't stop moving. So I sit on the couch. I stand up from the couch. I walk around the kitchen. I run up the curved stairs to the second floor. I pace down the hallway. I come back down the stairs.

I bring my fingers to my lips, as if that will somehow clear the jumbled thoughts in my head.

And I sit down on one of the chairs in the kitchen. And I'm replay him kissing me. And then I replay me kissing him back.

I know the kiss couldn't have lasted that long but it felt….it felt like it went on and on. And my chest heaves. And my palms are run down the side of my legs. And I walk around the couch twice more.

He told me he was done talking. I don't even know what that means. No, I do know what that means. Every time we almost cross the line or get within an inch of it, I've stop it. And I ramble on and on about how much he means to me and how we shouldn't do whatever we just did again.

And now I'm play with my phone. My fingers itch to press call to the name at the top of my favorites list. I stare over the Chicago skyline for a brief moment. I really shouldn't have Deacon's name listed as the top favorite but I also shouldn't be thinking about kissing him in the elevator.

And I think about kissing him again. And I think about what would be happening now if I had followed Deacon to his room instead of staying on the elevator. Maybe that is his idea of a truce. Maybe he wants to talk about the magazine article.

And now I jump off the couch again to put my phone back in my bag. It's less dangerous in my bag.

Deacon stopped it. Deacon pulled away. That's never happened before. And it unnerves me for so many reasons. When did he have more willpower than me? Why did he stop? Why didn't I? And now I'm literally walking around in a circle, twisting one leg over the other.

I force myself to sit down on the white couch.

We've been to Chicago dozens of times before. We told each other "I love you" for the first time here. We did the Oprah show here. We heard 'Already Gone' on the radio for the first time when we were riding in a limo. And all of those memories aren't helping things. They make me want to go find Deacon.

I trace my fingers lightly over my lips again. Teddy and I have come here for a long weekend once. But I can't seem to think about anything but Deacon.

So I remind myself that Chicago, Deacon, and I haven't always been such a great threesome. Deacon got his stomach pumped at Northwestern once. We'd been celebrating Bucky's birthday with the whole band; he'd been in the bathroom drinking out of the bottle. But that was years ago and minutes ago I was kissing Deacon.

I walk back over to my bag and grab the phone. I know Deacon doesn't text, but I can't talk to him on the phone about this. I need to see him. No that is a lie. I want to see him. And the burn of my lips is fading into a faint spark. I have no clue what I'm thinking or feeling. I don't know what Deacon is thinking or feeling either. That unnerves me. I pause for a minute before pushing six buttons and then press send.

The butterflies are back, worse than ever.

**Seventy One**

I've been sober for 4,423 days.

Although I guess it's after midnight, so I'm at Day 4,424. That should make me feel good, proud even. It should make me feel something besides…whatever I'm feeling.

The wind is chilling as it cuts through my shirt and the dark night combined with the city lights hurts my eyes. I've got to be at least ten blocks away from the hotel and I bet if I turn around I can see the lights of the penthouse. The penthouse Ray is in. The penthouse she's in right now…with Teddy. The penthouse Ray invited me to. "To talk". To talk about the kiss? Or us? Or the fight we had? Or why I'm on this tour? Or maybe, just maybe not to talk at all?

I stop walking and turn around, seeing the glow of the top floor of our hotel. I don't smile or frown. I just look at the large rectangular lights. I should be up there right now. With her. Talking or laughing or something.

Then finally, between the disappointment and confusion I make out the other feeling coursing through me. Relief.

Because while it's been 4,424 days since I last had a drink, it's only been an hour and half since I kissed her. And and hour and half since she kissed me back. That's 90 minutes since I ran my hands through her hair. And 90 minutes since her hand glided over my back and pressed into the nape of my neck.

And I like that number a lot more right now.


	10. Chapter 10

So sorry for the delay, I had a bit of writer's block on this chapter but shouldn't be nearly as long for the next update. This isn't my favorite chapter which I think is part of the delay. Thank you all for your comments & PMs!

**CHAPTER 10**

**Seventy Two**

I'm in Atlanta.

Its 6:15 am, local time. Most of the city still asleep but I'm here. With my carry-on luggage. I don't remember most of the flight. It was quiet and the plane was dark. Most of the passengers were businessmen who slept with their suit jackets on. A few typed on their laptops. I just looked ahead at the cloth seat in front of me. If anybody recognized me at O'Hare or on the plane, I didn't notice.

I follow the signs overhead towards the baggage claim. All I have is my carry-on luggage. I left my five suitcases and most of belongings back in Chicago. Bucky will get all that. At least I hope he will, once he realizes I'm gone. I look into the bag I've carried on. I've got my wallet, a pair of jeans, and a shirt.

I catch my reflection in a large pane of glass. I'm still wearing the same white sweater and the same black pants I was wearing when Teddy told me he wanted a divorce. I'm still wearing the same white sweater and the same black pants I had on when Deacon and I kissed.

I keep hearing Teddy's words over and over again. "I want a divorce." "I am tired of trying to make this work." "We just need to accept this is over." I hear Deacon say "I'm done talking." I hear the preacher announce that Teddy and I "are man and wife." I hear the OB-GYN's voice confirm I'm pregnant with Maddie. I hear Daphne's first cries. I hear my Father's voice telling me to focus on my marriage. I hear fights with Teddy echo in my head. I hear Teddy ask if I slept with Deacon. I hear Deacon's voice yelling at me that I lost faith in him.

I find myself in a cab, heading to a hotel that isn't expecting me for eight more hours. I look down at my watch. I never took it off last night. It's been six hours since Teddy left my hotel room. The second the door closed behind him, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I felt my skin crawl. I had to get out of Chicago.

And that is why I am in Atlanta. Atlanta will be better.

**Seventy Three**

We played during the Olympics.

The freaking opening of the 1996 Olympics. Even now, seventeen years later, it blows my mind. We were there when the flame was lit and all the Olympians marched in.

People who had never heard country music before heard it for the first time when Ray and I sang together. It was just a verse and chorus of 'Tonight is Ours.' There were a billion people watching. All those people who didn't speak English listened to Ray and I singing. They listened to our lyrics, to our stories. It truly was history. We made history, not just country music history but actual world history.

One of the few pictures I have in my house is from that night. It's in an expensive frame with a blue border. It matches Ray's dress in the picture. She gave me the frame as one of my Christmas presents in '96. It was the last real Christmas the two of us had. Vince died a few weeks later.

Every time we go to Atlanta, Ray and I talk about that night. And the things we did over the few days after like visiting Olympic village and taking in a few early exhibition games. I would lean over right now and talk to her about it, but she's not on the plane with us.

Buck hasn't said a word about where she is but something's up. Her bags are on the plane, it is just her that is missing. I wonder if she's getting on a later flight, wanting to spend a few more hours with Teddy. That thought makes me sick.

**Seventy Four **

She missed her cue.

Twice in a row. In twenty years, she's never missed one. She didn't miss a cue when she was throwing up from morning sickness backstage or when I was off stage throwing up from whiskey.

Six days after Vince died she performed beautifully at the Grammys. The same was true three hours after she got the call that Aunt Eleanor died. She'd cried hysterically until the ten minuet call happened. Then she'd washed her face, redid her makeup, and performed one hell of a show.

I've seen her happy, horny, mad, emotional, worried, sick, nervous, and everything else. And she's never missed her lead until now.

And it's my fault. And I have to fix it.

**Seventy Five**

The second shot of liquor is always the hardest.

That's what Deacon always says. At least that is what he used to say when we spoke about those things. He had a whole theory on the topic. Everyone's first shot is full of anticipation. They are either celebrating something or drowning their misery. Perhaps they're catching up to their friends who are four beers in. Either way, people love their first shot. They love their first shot because people forgot how much things hurt until they experience the pain again.

I felt the pain from being in labor with Maddie but when I remembered it as a duller, quicker pain. Until I had Daphne that is. And now when I look at my girls now, I can't remember exactly how much contractions hurt. Same for liquor. I always forget how much whiskey burns my throat. Or how hot it makes my stomach feels.

But the second shot is different. I hold the glass in my hand, looking at the amber liquid. My tongue still clings to the taste of the first gulp I shot. My throat still burns. My stomach hurls forward in a lurch at the idea of even more coming.

Liam clinks his glass to mine and I hurl the liquid down. I think of my first sho. It had been vodka.

Like most first or important things in my life, it happened with Deacon.

We'd been at Deacon's apartment. One of his roommates had a birthday party and half of Nashville had shown up. My own eighteenth birthday was a couple of weeks away and I'd dressed to impress. In my pushup bra and a low cut shirt. Deacon ignored most of the night, favoring drinking with his buddies and playing host to a bunch of girls he clearly had a past with. I tried to play it cool.

Then Deacon finally paid attention to me, I couldn't say no to whatever he asked. He asked if I'd like a shot.

That night ended badly. Very badly.

At one point during that night, I did a keg stand. And drank out of a watermelon with some kind of clear alcohol. And my so-called date Craig…er….Craig, Craig something or other got into a fight with Deacon.

And Deacon won. I ended up crashing on Deacon's bed. He ended up sleeping on the floor. Of course, about fifteen other people ended up sleeping on Deacon's floor too. But that night had been something else. Deacon and I had made out on his roommate's beanbag chair, half drunk out of our minds.

I smile at Liam as the bartender pours me another shot. I hold my breath as I throw the drink back against my throat. He says something like, "quit thinking so much".

I shake my head when Liam suggests just buying a whole bottle. That just sounds ridiculous. But then the fourth vile of liquid slides down my throat, followed by the fifth. And the bottle seems like a decent idea.

**Seventy Six **

Ray spent the night with Liam.

That thought just keeps echoing inside my head. And I keep seeing his damn fingers run through her hair. She let him run his fingers through her hair in the damn lobby of the hotel. And she smiled at him when he held her hand.

She never lets me do that in public. Hell, I don't do that in private.

And as the bus rolls out of Chicago, all I want is to punch the damn wall.

I went to Ray last night. I told her she could talk to me. I told her I was here for her and she shut me down. She gave me the whole "I'm fine" bullshit then said she couldn't talk about it.

Obviously that was a lie.

She kicked Liam out of her life, off her record, and obviously he didn't just take that as the last word. And last night she spent with him. Drinking. Like we use to do. I know how Ray gets when she drinks. She gains that little bit of encouragement she needs to do what she wants. And that apparently includes letting Liam him run his fingers through her hair this morning.

I think back to three days before, when my fingers were running through her hair, when we were kissing in an elevator.

And I feel sick to my stomach.

Maybe she came to Atlanta early to meet Liam? Maybe she hates that I kissed her? Maybe she hates herself for kissing me back? Maybe he's who she turns to now to talk about stuff?

I know in my head Ray loves me. No that isn't true, in my head Rayna Jaymes is someone else's wife, the mother of someone else's children, someone else's lover, someone else's best friend.

But in my soul I know.

She hasn't told me that she loves me since I found out about her engagement. I haven't said it to her since she got married. Well, that's not true. But I've only said a couple of times. And even those were years ago. But she knows I know love her. So does Teddy. So does Coleman. So do half the journalist in Nashville.

And what I know, what Teddy knows, what Coleman knows, and maybe a few of those journalist know is that she loves me too.

And that thought makes me relax a little.


	11. Chapter 11

WOW! Thank you to all your comments on the last chapter. You all are awesome! This chapter came much more easily than the last. Thank you to everyone. This chapter cover Episode 14.

Chapter 11

**Seventy Seven**

I don't buy tabloids.

Those are for those weird people who believe in alien invasions and the stories about Elvis being alive in Argentina. But here I am, with three different tabloids in my grocery bag along with my Cheerios and Root Beer.

I don't even get home before I pull over in a gas station parking lot. I grab one the one with the headline declaring, "Their D-I-V-O-R-C-E begins today". It has a picture of Ray and Teddy from election night. There is a two page spread with a copy of the divorce papers. Teddy filed them in Sumner County. According to a clerk named Debbie, Teddy was in a somber mood and wore sunglasses.

I get madder as I open the second rag. This one is covered with pictures of me and Ray from a Grammy performance about six years ago, an unfamiliar picture of Rayna and Liam, and the infamous pictures of Teddy hugging that woman. The yellow letters declared her the Queen of Country and him Nashville's Mayor with the words, "Inside their Secret Divorce." This has a source close to the Mayor who says neither party had an affair. They call it a "private matter" then confirms that Rayna and Teddy have been sleeping in different bedrooms for months. I see my picture in a box on the right hand side with a captain. "Will Rayna turn to her ex to help her through the divorce?" I punch my steering wheel out of answer. Considering Ray didn't bother to tell me any of this, I think that answer is 'no.'

I throw the paper down and dig in the bag for the last one. The third headline had a picture of Rayna, Teddy, and the girls with an inset box of Teddy hugging that woman. It declared the other woman a 'May-Whore.' I roll my eyes. Mayor, May-whore. Man they really spent a lot of time working on that tag.

There is a story that while Rayna and the girls went home on election night, Peggy and Teddy stayed at the victory party for hours. There was a fuzzy camera phone picture of Teddy and Peggy out on the streets of Nashville.

And there I am again. It was a picture from Watty's tribute concert at the Opry. We were walking off stage together. The picture captured my hand on her shoulder as she leaned into me. The story that went along with picture was four paragraphs. It detailed my twenty something year relationship with Ray. Young, in love, a drunk boy, an ambitious girl, stints in rehab, marries Teddy, still good friends.

Without thinking, I snap a picture of one of the tabloids with my phone and forward the picture to Ray. A second later I type "seriously". I push send without realizing what I've done. But then I stare at the phone waiting for her response. Part of me hopes she calls me and part of me dares her to.

**Seventy Eight**

I googled myself.

I know I shouldn't have done it. But I couldn't help myself. I just wanted to know what everyone was saying about the divorce. About five minutes in, I realized my mistake but by then I'd already read lots of fun lies about me and some awesome puns for both myself and Teddy.

One of the blogs had a picture of Deacon and I from the Rockies. The story itself was a girl who was excited I was getting a divorce. She hoped Deacon and I would get back together because we were soul mates. On her blog, there were people congratulating her about my divorce. The whole thing was just bizarre. I scrolled back up and just stared at the picture of me and Deacon with the mountain range behind us.

And since then, that's all I've been able to think about.

So now, I'm lying in the bed I haven't shared with Teddy in months and I'm thinking about Deacon and I camping.

It has been the label's idea. One that I wasn't crazy about considering Daphne was only eleven months old. But the label insisted and it was a good idea. They wanted a photo shoot for the album's cover to match its name, 'Wild at Heart.' To save money and keep with a theme for the album, the label agreed to do a tie-in with CMT. A two hour special. We did a sit down acoustic set, playing some old songs and some new ones. We filmed each song in different place in the park. So we'd hiked up the side of mountains and waded through creeks to get the perfect locations.

Then we filmed a few short interviews that were edited in between the songs. They were little stories about funny back stage antics by the crew or a PG version of how some of those songs came to be. Some of the interviews were done with me sitting on a boulder; others were done with me standing in front of a waterfall. My ass got soaked in the process.

Between the photoshoots, promos, filming the special, doing promotion for the special, we found it was easier just to stay at the Rocky Mountain National Park. So we camped for three nights and four days. We had RVs but some of the guys preferred the nice camping tents to the cramped RVs we rented. For dinner, all thirty of us or so would wonder into one of the local towns for dinner. Then the band and I would come back. They'd play old songs and we'd sing around campfires. All three nights, Deacon and I stayed out after everyone else went to bed.

We laid on a blanket together the first night, the embers still smoking in the fire. His body faced one way and mine the other. But our heads had been beside each other so we could talk in whispers.

The first night we laughed like school kids when we started pointing out made up stars constellations and what we thought they looked like. I found a shirt, a castle, and an old grumpy man's face. We named the face, 'Lamar'.

He found a foot, a dog, a pirate ship, a stars war character, and about a dozen other things. We named the dog 'Twinkle' and he named the boat 'Postcard'. He just laughed and suggested the boat's country of port was Mexico. I'd giggled like I was drunk that night and just kept repeated "Our ship is a Postcard from Mexico."

The next night, we shared a pillow as we looked up into the night. Deacon and I were still smart enough to lay opposite each other so there would be no accidental touching. He strummed his guitar, playing a new melody he was working on. A few hours later, that song became 'In the Night.' That night, he brought up the time I turned the living room into Camp Brown Bear. I blushed, remembering how long I worked on that camp counselor outfit and how quickly Deacon had taken it off.

And then I told him I was tired. I wasn't but I was a happily married woman at that point. At least that is what I told myself an hour later when I still couldn't get to sleep in the bedroom of the RV.

The third night, I'd worn an old sweatshirt to the campfire. He'd worn his usual jeans and a t-shirt. And when I went to laid down on the blanket, we faced our bodies opposite again. My feet faced the RV and his faced the mountain range. We quickly got lost in conversation about the album and the interviews I'd done earlier that day.

He made some joke about me being able to talk about anything for ten minutes. I reached over my head and knocked him in his chest. He made an "oof" sound and grabbed my arm. Somehow I ended up twisted around, my head on his chest with my hair covering his face. And then we found ourselves face to face. Close enough to kiss. And we did almost. I'd licked my lips in anticipation but then just as quickly I'd pulled myself out of the fog and pushed myself off of him.

Then we talked about how good our friendship was and what a great place we both were professionally and personally. It wasn't a complete lie but it wasn't the truth either. But if we kept saying it out loud, it made it seem more real.

**Seventy Nine**

I keep thinking about my 22nd birthday.

That's weird. There was nothing crazy about it. The night before we'd gone out with Vince and a couple of other buddies. I'd gotten drunk, so had Ray.

But then about noon I was woken up to Rayna in one of my old sweat shirts and panties singing Happy Birthday to me. She was holding a pineapple upside down cake with lit candles. I blew out the candles, gave Ray a kiss, and then we proceeded to eat the cake in bed with a fork.

I watched Old Yeller that afternoon while Rayna made supper. She knew I loved the movie in part because Dad always watched it with me. Somewhere through the years, I'd fallen accustomed to watching it on my birthday. Ray couldn't stand the movie but always made sure I had time to watch it while she did something else.

Ray gave me a new guitar strap that year and cowboy boots. They were Luccheses. Black ones that she'd seen me looking at when we'd been in Dallas. Of course she hadn't wrapped them. Instead she'd worn both my boots and my guitar strap on herself…and nothing else. Yep, that had been my kind of surprise.

I hear the door knock and look out my side window, unsurprised to see Scarlett standing there with a cupcake in hand.

**Eighty**

For years, I hated this piano.

Not just this one but all of them. I suppose it was better than Tandy being forced to play the violin. It was one of the things Daddy insisted on. Tandy was terrible and eventually they let her stop. As for fourth grade me, I bargained with Daddy. If he let me take guitar lessons, I would continue piano lessons. He agreed, with coaxing from Mama.

I already knew how to read music and Mama taught me the basic chords years before. But once I started taking guitar lessons, I fell in love. Not with the guitar per se. But with music and with my Mom.

Mama and I would spend hours on the stairs singing and playing. She told me it had the best acoustics in the house but it also had a good view of the driveway. And when Daddy came home, the guitars went up. Despite my love of guitar, my piano playing had always been much better.

I trace my fingers over the black and white keys. Today is Deacon's birthday and Juliette is hosting some stupid party for him tonight. He'll hate it.

No that isn't true, he'll be flattered by it. Then he'll stand in the corner and talk to his friends one-on-one. He would rather be at home, eating some homemade cake and playing on his guitar. And then I wonder why I'm even thinking about him and his birthday.

Last time I saw him, he yelled at me. Yelled at me in front of half the crew clearly mad at something I did. Then his text about the divorce was hardly friendly. So far, he hasn't called me and I haven't called him. And I wonder for a few minutes why Deacon is invading my thoughts, like always. I tell myself out loud to stop it. The last thing I need is his voice to add to the Daddy's, Teddy's and Tandy's voices. I just want the voices in my head to stop.

I physically push myself off the bench. I swear it feels like I can barely stand up right now. My legs are wobbly and I feel physically weak. I think maybe a walk would do me good but then I remember the paparazzi. And I feel claustrophobic, trapped somehow. I look at the clock on the wall. It reads 11:15.

The girls won't be out of school for hours. I sit back down. I feel the keys again.

**Eighty One **

She wrote a song for me.

She doesn't say that out loud but I know. She hasn't written a song about me in years. I write them all of the time about her. I sing them all the time at the Bluebird and by myself. But she doesn't write them for me.

Until tonight. And somehow that means so much more than the hug we just shared. The hug that I held on to for a second too long.

I find myself staring at her, like always. Only this time she is staring back at me. In public. And I can feel their eyes on me but I can't look away from her. And when the song ends and the applause starts, I smile.

I smile cause the song was beautiful. I smile cause she is beautiful standing up there. I smile cause she told everybody on stage that, "If there was no Deacon Clayborne there would be no Rayna Jaymes." I smile because the tabloids are going to assume we are back together which means no more stupid articles about she and Liam. I smile because the wedding ring on her finger won't be there much longer. And I smile because no matter what, there is me and her.

**Eighty Two**

I want to do right by Deacon.

I told him that earlier and it's the only truth I have right now.

Aunt Eleanor use to say that all the time. Daddy still says it on occasion. So does Coleman.

It my family it's a promise. And tonight that was my promise to him. I don't know how. And I don't have a timeline but someday I'll make it up to him. All the years of waiting and hoping and believing that we'd finally be back together. I'll show him he was right for waiting. I'll show him he was right about a lot of things. I'll do right by him, as soon as I can.


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you all for your wonderful comments/PMs! They are incredibly encouraging and make me want to write faster and better! You all are wonderful.

**CHAPTER 12**

**Eight Three**

My daughter called me a bitch.

She said she understood why Teddy left me. And the truth is I think she's right. Maybe not the bitch part and I sure as hell didn't deserve to be cheated on. But I know why Teddy left me.

It's because on his birthday I order Teddy a store bought cake the night before his birthday. It's because I can sleep fine when Teddy's out of town. It's because I don't spend days and weeks planning out our Valentine's Day or his Christmas presents. It's because I don't have a box of mementos from him that I keep at Daddy's house just to wallow in my memories. It's because know what his favorite holiday. Its because I don't care what his favorite color is.

We don't have secret spots. We don't have longing looks. Or songs. Or stolen kisses in elevators.

Right now, I'm still adjusting to the shock of the divorce. I'm trying to deal with the fact I failed at my marriage. I'm hurting for my girls. I'm focusing on my new album, and with Liam as my producer, and without Deacon being with me every step of the way. But I'll recover. I'll be fine. I slide my ring off my finger and throw it in my pocketbook.

It has been 14 years since Deacon and I were together. And I'm still not over that breakup. And Teddy knows that. And ultimately, that is why Teddy left.

**Eighty Four**

EMS asked me my relationship is to Maddie.

And I have no clue what to say. "I've been in love with her mother for like 25 years," or "I was the guitar player inside the building when the stampede started." I say, "I'm a friend of the family." If Lamar ever heard me say that he'd sue me for slander.

The ambulance ride is short, three, four minutes at the most. And during that time, I'm listening as Maddie answers questions about today's date and her middle name and where exactly she feels pain.

As the ambulance stops near the rear of the hospital, I pull out my phone. Maddie begs me, "not to call her yet." I pull my phone from my pocket and sigh "As soon as the doctor says you are okay, I'm calling her." She nods at me. We both know Rayna. In Maddie's words, she will "freak out."

Twenty seven minutes later, Dr. Krantz confirms she'll be fine. He wants a precautionary CT scan. He politely asks me to step out of the room for a few minutes. He promises me that "your daughter will fine." I don't bother to correct to the doctor. He doesn't seem to care about anything but getting to the next patient. I walk down out the hallway and text Rayna. A minute later, she calls me from the car. She indeed freaks out. I reassure Ray that she's fine. Ray says she'll be there in fifteen minutes. I tell her to be careful and promise her that Maddie is okay.

I notice the curtain is still closed so I mosey down to the gift shop.

I walk to the small black fridge in the middle. There few flowers with those cheap Congratulations plastic sign. Two are blue, two are in pink. There entire back wall is covered with cards. There are a bunch of nursing scrubs and sweatshirts with the name of the hospital on it. But most of the gift shop is just trinkets of Nashville. Who goes to a hospital gift shop for an "I love Nashville" fridge magnet?

I notice a few stuffed animals. There is a chick and a bunny. Really early Easter, I guess? I wish there was an elephant. I bought her an elephant once for her first birthday. And before that I bought her Mama one.

I know Maddie is too old for the bunny but it's either that 'Congratulations on the Baby Boy' roses. So I pick the bunny and pay the cashier.

**Eighty Five**

I go to our spot.

Sue whines as I leave him in the car. But I left the car running, with the heat on, and the windows cracked. Ray called me tonight. She thanked me for watching out for Maddie and making sure she got to the hospital okay. It was a brief conversation. She sniffled through it. And said goodnight.

I smile sadly to myself. Ray didn't ask me to come over or meet her somewhere. She didn't talk about how mad she was at Teddy or how scared she was about what could have happened.

And it hurts. It hurts that I thought by now she would "Have done right by" me. Those were her words, not mine. But I keep waiting. I keep waiting for her to call me. Or kiss me. Or do something. I don't know how not to wait. I don't know how to not want her. Or be there for her.

But how knows? Maybe Cole is right. He told me I should go on a date. A damn date. It doesn't sound fun or exciting or like anything I want to do. But still. Rayna's divorced. Or close to it. She isn't wearing her ring. And I'm nowhere closer to having her back than I was five months or. Or five years ago.

**Eighty Six**

I'm addicted to the Wyatt family.

Deacon said it tonight. My wife has said the same thing for years. Andrew and Eleanor Wyatt practically raised both me and Lamar. The Wyatt family, one of the most prominent Southern families in Nashville, took in the young black son of an alcoholic mother and a dead father.

I was in Lamar's wedding; I was there when Tandy was born. I helped name Rayna. And then sixteen years later, Lamar called me when Rayna ran away from home. When Lamar's wife died, I moved in to the Mansion for eight weeks. Twice, I took a loaded handgun away from him.

Lamar is the godfather to both of my children. He was there when I graduated undergrad and law school. He led my intervention. He paid for both my stints in rehab. He rode motorcycles and played college baseball. He fell in love with a folk singer. But somewhere along the way, I lost that Lamar.

I'll never have that Lamar back. That Lamar hasn't existed in years. But I still have to fight the urge to side with Lamar. Every time Lamar does something unforgivable, I end up forgiving him. The same is true with Tandy.

And it's worse for Deacon with Rayna. He'll never truly let her go. At least I've got Anita and the kids. They are my priority and my distraction. Deacon has memories, AA meetings, guilt, and whatever support Rayna gives him.

So I encouraged Deacon to go out on a date. To go have a meal with a woman and send flowers to her for no reason. To spend more than an hour with a woman before unhooking her bra. I doubt he'll take my advice but it needed to be said.

**Eighty Seven**

I'm damn good at interviews.

Bucky always says that. Deacon says that. Teddy says that…or use to say that. And I did knock it out of the park, if I do say so myself. My dress was the perfect hue of virginal white. My heels were high and sexy but my dress was long enough to even it out. Katie Couric's questions were softballs. I was humorous. I was smart. I was sympathetic. The audience nodded along with me. Buck gives me a standing ovation in the green room.

I ask for a moment and Bucky obliges. I keep re-hearing Katie's last question in my head. "Where do you see yourself going from here?" I answered as honestly as I could. I am going to focus on the girls. I've got to finish my album. I want to finish my album. And there's Deacon.

I'm not healed yet but I'm getting closer. I smile slightly. I told him I was going to do right by him. I know he's tired of waiting for me, but he won't have to much longer.

Looking back now, I jumped from Deacon to Teddy too fast. Back then, I was so tired. Deacon had spent the better part of two years drinking, sleeping it off, fighting, yelling, making up, and beginning the vicious cycle all over again. He promised me sobriety. Instead he'd gotten court dates, broken furniture, and hospital bracelets.

And then I would swear we were over. But I never meant it. Not really.

I probably moved in and out of our house a dozen times. I bought a luxury apartment in downtown Nashville when I moved out the second time. I kept the apartment when I moved back in.

Teddy and I didn't even really have a relationship when Tandy set us up. We had an awkward set up during brunch. Teddy knew we were on a blind date. I realized the same when Tandy excused herself to the bathroom before we ordered drinks. Well actually I realized we were on a date when Tandy never came back from the bathroom. But he was nice. And brunch at the Country Club was always delicious. Pretentious..and expensive…but always delicious.

We grabbed a coffee at some trendy shop a week later. He invited me to dinner four times before I accepted. Then I canceled the next afternoon because Deacon came to my new apartment with a handful of daisies.

Two days later, Deacon ran over the curb at my apartment and rolled into a tree. He walked away without a scratch. The car fared a tad worse.

And then Teddy called again and offered a friendship. That was something I didn't have. That was something I'd never really had. My sister was a woman I loved because of blood and because I was supposed to. Bucky was my employee first. Vince was dead. And Deacon…couldn't be anything by that point.

So Teddy and I had dinner and talked. It was nice that he ordered sweet tea. It was nicer that Teddy didn't yell at anybody or go off when the waitress brought him a potato instead of fries. He asked me to dinner again and I said no.

That night, Daddy called informing me that Deacon had been picked up during a drug raid…again. But Daddy had called in another favor. Another favor I didn't ask for. How Deacon's name never ended up in the papers during that time still boggles my mind.

I told Deacon I was done and called Teddy back. We ate at a Steakhouse. When Deacon showed up drunk a few days later, I told him that I had gone on a date. I told him I had a second date soon. He kicked the taillights out of my car.

A few weeks later, Deacon didn't bother showing up for our flight to Colorado for the last leg of our tour.

Meanwhile, Teddy flew out to see me when we were in California. Teddy and I made love for the first time in LA. I liked that his breath didn't smell like liquor when he kissed me.

But that night, as Teddy slept soundly I paced the hotel bathroom. Then, I walked into the room at the end of the hall with the ice machine. I cried hysterically until I got too tired to cry. And for the next five weeks or so things were good. Teddy and I talked on the phone about every other day.

Then Deacon showed up again….in Albuquerque. And he was clean and sober. Told me he'd been that way for seventeen days by that point. He'd been going to meetings. And for eleven days, I avoided Teddy's phone calls. And for eleven days, things were good. And for eleven days, I let myself get my hopes up.

It was my own fault. I should have expected to find him drinking at 11:30 am in the hotel restaurant. His tab was $34.00 on cheap liquor.

The truth was Deacon was always wonderful at getting sober. He was just really shitty at making it stick.

But all that is in the past now. But I've learned my lesson. I'm not going to do the push and pull again. I'm going to take my time. And then Deacon and I can finally be together. Without alcohol.


	13. Chapter 13

**First, sorry this took longer than usual. I've been finishing up the fanfic challenge and work has led me on several un-fun trips lately but here is the next chapter...a little longer than usual. This chapter covers Episodes 16 & 17. Thank you all again for all your wonderful and encouraging messages. **

**Chapter 13**

**Eighty Eight**

I've had my share of experiences in New York.

Daddy use to call New York a cesspool of Yankees, celebrities, public transportation, and garbage. The few times I came to New York growing up, Tandy and I did the tourist thing. . We weren't allowed to go to Central Park or Times Square. We did art galleries and museums during the day and Broadway shows at night with our babysitters. For some reason, Mama never came with us.

It wasn't until I had just turned 18 that I finally understood why New York was so special. Vince and Deacon got offered a spot in a music festival in Bryant Park. Vince's girlfriend was supposed to drive us to the Big Apple but the two of them broke up the week before our trip. So, Deacon, Vince and I ended up taking a Greyhound. It was 22 hour bus ride. At one point, I fell asleep on Vince's shoulder, Deacon got moody about it. I got mad that Deacon got mad. Then we had a stupid fight in a Shoney's parking lot in Pennsylvania. We continued to fight on the bus and then on the stoop of some random person's Chelsea duplex.

Then Deacon and I made up and mad out on the same stoop. We walked hand and hand to some friend of Vince's one-room apartment. She flirted with Deacon. I got mad. Deacon reminded me that I was the one who kept putting the brakes on things. By the end of the trip, we were together.

The next time Deacon and I were in New York it was to do a bunch of promotion and publicity for our first album. We literally didn't sleep for three days. We were busy with interviews and photo shoots and singing and getting naked as quick as we possibly could in between.

Since we've played huge arena tours in Brooklyn, intimate shows at small nightclubs, done concerts for the morning television shows, played in Central Park, got lost in Chinatown, partied the night away in the Village, danced to a jazz band at an expensive Italian restaurant, and done everything in between.

And apparently we are still having new experiences. Tonight for example, I had the experience of having my heart ripped out of my chest. That was courtesy of Deacon's new girlfriend Shannon or Sarah or whatever her name was. I was too busy hearing the word "girlfriend" echo in my head to retain her actual name. Deacon has a girlfriend. And a dog. Or a girlfriend with a dog. Or a dog that comes with a girlfriend. Deacon doesn't do pets. He doesn't do girlfriend. And now he has both.

But I'm fine with it. I tell Tandy in a squeaky loud voice when the girls go wash their hands. I tell her the same thing once the girls are in bed that night. If my loud high-pitch voice didn't convince her I was fine, I'm sure the bottle and half of wine I drank did.

**Eighty Nine**

I miss that smile.

I haven't see Ray happy in months. I've seen her confused, sad, angry, jealous, tired, worried, excited, and about a million other emotions. But I haven't really seen her happy. But right now she looks happy. And I understand why. Those girls of hers are amazing. Hell, the entire crew has stopped what they are doing to listen to them.

And while Maddie and Daphne are amazing and beautiful, their mama is who I'm looking at.

She looks like she's finally gotten some sleep. Her shoulders are back and straight. And even though I can only see her profile, she's smiling.

A real smile.

And I can't help but want to see her eyes. I know they're shining bright. It is the same smile she used to give me when I told her I loved her, the same smile she'd break into when I brought her daisies just because. The same smile she would give me on finishing a really good song or after we nailed a concert. I just really love that smile. I really miss that smile.

So the next time the girls sing "Ho." I sing it loudly towards her. It does the trick. She turns towards me and grins wide. Then she sings loudly back and I smile too. I have missed that smile, more than I am willing to admit to myself right now.

**Ninety**

I like Deacon Claybourne a lot.

He's the first guy in a really long time who gives me butterflies. He's sweet and self-deprecating. He is easy-going. He helps wash dishes and holds open doors. He has this charm; I guess it is the Southern charm I've always heard about.

He does seem to know the affect he has on women. I'm just not sure he knows the affect is having on me. The thing is, I'm 36 years old. I have had a lot of short term romances with guys, a couple of long term relationships. But this feels different. This feels like we are building something together. That is why I'm not going to let these exes create a problem that isn't there. I was a little thrown at first when the younger blonde made some sexual innuendo towards Deacon. He seemed more embarrassed about it than anything. Once I thought about it, really, she knew my name. She knew I was coming. She may have seen me as some odd sort of competition but Deacon didn't view her that way. This singer Juliette was not competition.

It is the red head that scares me. She seems uneasy around me and only around me. With everyone else she's the center of attention. According to some backstage worker named Rhonda, Deacon and Rayna were together for years.

I feel stupid that I never once thought about looking up Deacon online before. He was some big guitar player with awards and name recognition but it never occurred to me that he was famous. So then I goggled him. Deacon's Wikipedia page says they dated eleven years. It called their relationship "Tumultuous at times" and there was a whole paragraph about the awards and songs they co-wrote. There are tabloid pictures of the two of them hugging off stage and stories questioning whether their relationship led to her marriage ending. Some fans of theirs had youtube videos with pictures playing over songs as a "tribute" to them. There were videos of them singing together, some older and some clearly more recent.

But tonight Rayna Jaymes brushed off her relationship with Deacon as something that happened years ago. Her smile seemed short and didn't reach her eyes. That worries me despite everything that has happened. That worries me despite Deacon saying he wanted to spend more time in Nashville and less out on the road.

**Ninety One**

I told Deacon I liked Stacey.

And I told him I was happy for him. And I meant it. He hasn't been at peace for years. He hasn't been happy for years. I want him happy and at peace. And even though I walked away quickly and bit my lip to stop from crying, I meant every word.

I'm sure this is how Deacon felt during Maddie's birthday parties and when he'd see Teddy kiss me before I went up on stage for winning an award. I did mean every word I told him, honestly.

I just also meant a lot of other things that I didn't say. And now that Stacey's in the picture, they will be words I'll keep to myself. I'm really good at keeping those words to myself, I've been doing it for years now.

**Ninety Two**

Lamar's in the hospital.

Avery Barker is a roadie. I have a dog. I just gave Stacey a key to my house. To the house I shared with Rayna, the house I bought with Rayna. A house that Lamar tried to stop the bank from letting us buy.

So I leave a message on Ray's phone.

While we were teenagers, Ray and Lamar fought constantly. It wasn't just teenage stuff. He was a control freak. She tested every boundary he had. He was stubborn. If that's even possible, Ray was even more stubborn. Lamar hated the music industry and his daughter dropping out of high school. She was hurt he couldn't support her dreams or her work.

But it was deeper than that. Twelve year old Rayna resented her Daddy for living while her Mama died. He couldn't see she was a terrified and traumatized little girl who was trying to deal to cope. So he got colder. She got angrier. He tried to teach her lessons about life by cutting her off financially. She managed to scrape by and he hated she proved him wrong. So then he started cutting her off emotionally. Every little bump Rayna had, Lamar saw it as proof he was right about me, her career, and everything else. For years the only time we even saw Lamar was at Thanksgiving and Christmas or at brunch with Ray's aunt. They only had biting conversations back and forth.

But he's her only parent. And she loves him. Or at least feels an emotional obligation to him that has more to do with shared biology and experiences than anything. And she hates hospitals. She can't go into one without thinking about her mom; that I'm sure adds a whole other layer of complicated emotions into it.

**Ninety Three**

My back aches.

It's the damn chairs and the lack of sleep. It's been 40 plus hours since I've slept. The bright florescent lights of the room and the beeping of machines makes my head throb.

I try to think of something that would make me feel better or at least make my back hurt less. I think about the voicemail I left for Deacon and silently hope the show went well.

I let my mind wonder for a while and it stops on Deacon. Specifically the time that Deacon surprised me with my own private masseur.

We'd been in the middle of recording the first album and I was stressed and not sleeping or eating well. Typical me, I was just so focused on making everything perfect.

Then one night, Deacon and I stumbled into our apartment late. There was a massage table in the middle of the living room and at least a dozen candles lit throughout the room. There were scented oils and towels set up. And for two hours, me and some Swedish guy named Sven had an amazing time. Of course, Deacon stayed very close to make ensure Sven didn't see or touch anything he wasn't supposed to. Then Sven left and Deacon and I found several other uses for the left over oil and candles.

Even all the years later, I have no idea how Deacon set it up or how he was able to afford it. . God, that night was amazing. And it does make me relax a little.

**Ninety Four**

Ray needs me.

I could hear it in her voice. It was the breath she took between words and the way she drew out her vowels. It was a sound I hadn't heard in years, probably since one of my last hospital stays. She used to beg me to quit drinking in that voice. She used to beg me to be okay in that voice, while my stomach was being pumped. She used that voice for months after Vince died.

She needed me those times and I couldn't, correction I wasn't there for her. And I think after I hurt her and disappointed her so many times, she stopped needing me in the same way she had before. Or maybe she still needed me but she stopped showing it.

I can't help but think about my second trip to rehab. I stopped drinking on a Tuesday. Got a bed in rehab on Friday morning. I dreaded going back to rehab even after I knew I had to do it. God, I dreaded it. I dreaded the smell of rehab sweat, the never-ending group sessions, and the itchy sheets. Rehab meant I couldn't see Ray or talk to her.

During those few days between my sobriety starting and checking myself into rehab, I slept a lot. When I was awake, Rayna distracted me with sex and song writing. Then, when Ray dropped me off at rehab, she handed me a stack of letters. 56 in total. One for every morning and one for every night of my 28 days.

I clung to those letters like a life line.

They were all each at least a page. All were in her loopy cursive handwriting. They all smelled like her perfume and they were tied in groups with ribbons that smelled like her hair. All of them began with "Deacon" or "Babe". Some were practically X-rated, some were full of lyrics she had written or ideas for songs, some were full of memories of things we'd done together; others were things she wanted to do in the future. Some just told me how proud she was that I'd finally decided to go back. They all ended with the same line "I love you & I need you." She needed me to get sober. She needed me beside her every day on tour, at home, in her life.

I had those letters for years. Kept them in a box under the bed. I took those letters with me on my third and forth trips to rehab. I would read them for inspiration when I was felling uninspired while writing. Sometimes I would ask her to read one to me. I would often read them during the times Ray moved out. Typically she'd leave after one too many arrests or one too many binders. But I'd always managed to get her to come back, eventually.

But one night, she'd been at her apartment after a fight. I called her drunk as hell and she hung up on me. So, I decided to get her back. I grabbed a lighter and lit the whole damn box of letters on fire. Then I drove over to her place and told her what I'd done. I even brought over the burnt ribbon and ashes to prove it to her.

She cried angry tears in front of me. But I was too drunk to care. Later that night, when she thought I was asleep on her futon, I heard her crying quietly in the bedroom. She must have cried for over an hour. And somewhere in all of that, I got up and went into her bedroom and held her.

I apologized over and over again. And I meant it. I still regret burning those letters. She told me between her tears that the letters were stupid and it didn't matter. She didn't mean that.

But she did mean what she said in those letters, some of which I still have memorized. She needed me back then. Just like she needs me now. But now I can actually be there for her. That's why I 'm on a plane home.

**Ninety Five**

He came.

He came to sit with me. He came to bring me coffee. He came to listen to me ramble on and on about things that happened twenty plus years ago. He held me and hugged me. He walked up and down the tile hallway with me. And even though he's gone now, Deacon came when I needed him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey All! First so sorry this has taken me so long to update. It is bar far the longest chapter I think I've ever written and right before I got ready to review it I called called out of town. ICK. But I'm back and hope to keep the updates coming swiftly! Thank you all again for your wonderful comments! I truly appreciate each and every one of them!**

**CHAPTER 14**

**Ninety Six **

Deacon hates clam chowder.

Absolutely hates it. To begin with, Deacon has never been a fan of seafood or soup but normally he eats whatever it is that is put in front of him. Except for clam chowder. Deacon once told me that clam chowder taste like hot slime with slugs in it. So when Harvey Graham, Boston's most pretentious radio host offered dinner to the Juliette, both of our bands, and the crew of the show, Deacon opted out with some lame ass excuse about being tired.

So when literally every person got sick from ill-prepared seafood, Deacon offered to pick me up from the airport. Of course he could have just sent the limo like the original plan had been, but for whatever reason he'd jumped into a cab and came to Logan International himself.

He is standing there beside the luggage claim in a black shirt and jeans. He smiles and takes my carry-on bag. I half expect a hug but he doesn't lean forward, so neither do I.

The cab ride over to the hotel is long, but I want it to last longer. He asks about Daddy and I give him the update: out of ICU, another week or son in the hospital, then rehab and taking it easy for a few months. He makes a joke about Lamar's version of taking it easy. Then he asks how I'm handling the news about Watty and my mom. We aren't even out of the airport traffic yet.

I sigh and lean back against the seat. I verbalize what I have kept to myself until now: I'm confused and doubting every memory I have of both Mama and Watty. I tell him that I keep thinking about my Mama and can't help but doubt whether she is anything like the woman I remember her to be. I stare out into the city lights as we slowly make our way through a group of stoplights.

Deacon simply offers that finding out our parents aren't perfect is the first step in becoming an adult, then he puts his hand on my knee. I turn slowly to face him. He gives me a sympathetic smile and I turn my body towards him, curling one leg under my body and leaving the other with his hand upon it.

Then I admit that Watty's relationship with my mom actually bothers me more. Part of me is sure the only reason Watty helped me at all was because of some affair she had with him. I say my whole career feels like some kind of lie or like I skipped twenty steps to get to the top. I speculate out loud that perhaps my entire career was one big lie, built on my mother's infidelity and Watty's affections for her.

Deacon shrugs and reminds me that the Grammys and the CMAs and the millions of records sold prove I deserve to be on top. He reminds me of the bars and the tours and all the times I refuse to give up. He agrees that Watty helped, but so did the startup that Edgehill was, so did the deejay in Texas that played our first song eight times because he just liked the song. His body shifts too and now its facing mine as his head rest close to mine on the back seat. He names the club owners that asked us to come back and play again and then quotes reviews that our first album got.

He can tell that makes me feel better. I say a quiet "thank you" to him and he answers back a nearly silent "you're welcome Ray."

Then he changes the subject to ask if I was hungry. Truth was, I had eaten right before I got on the plane. But I accept his invitation to dinner anyways.

We end up at the hotel restaurant splitting a huge plate of nachos with meat and olives on it. He recounts the latest fights he'd had with Juliette's sober-companion turned manager. The whole thing is absolutely absurd and I tell him so. I reassure him that he's in the right. Juliette is indeed as immature and foolish as I thought she was. He just shrugs and then asks how I feel about a dessert.

We split a cream pie and by split I mean I had two small bites and he has the rest. We laugh at the man sitting at the bar who strikes out with every single woman he's hit on. He makes a joke about the scarf I'm wearing and I kick him under the table. We stay long after the waitress takes our last plate away.

**Ninety Seven**

Deacon Claybourne came to the after party.

He hasn't been to one in a couple of years. Hates them. Deacon hates the niceties and idol chit-chat with industry big wigs and local insiders. Back when he and Rayna were starting out it was necessary and he understood that. But even back then, it was clear it was not Deacon's thing. He would stick around the party to ensure no guy was hitting on Rayna and then try and shuffle her out of the room as fast as possible.

But tonight he sat on the couch and talked to me for a good twenty minutes. Deacon's eyes followed her around the room for the better part of an hour until he saw an opening. Then like a moth to a flame, he was by her side. I vaguely wonder if the girl he brought to New York was some passing phase. Or perhaps she's like Teddy Conrad and willing to turn a blind eye to things she doesn't want to see?

So there they were, Rayna and Deacon, in the corner near the kitchen laughing about some secret they were sharing. Then they left together, his elbow bent and her arm looped through his.

I took a few steps into the lobby area to follow them, wondering if perhaps they were going to head to the elevators together. But instead they headed to the glass doors of the front of the hotel. Together. In public.

Its dark outside and the publicity of Rayna's divorce has died down. Besides, if the journalist wanted pictures of Rayna and Deacon holding hands or linked arm and arm they would have had dozens of other opportunities over the years. Still, it worries me for a lot of different reasons.

And as Rayna's manager, I'm not sure which is scarier: Deacon and Rayna in public or Deacon and Rayna in private.

**Ninety Eight**

I have a bruise on my ass.

And it's all Ray's fault. This morning in the mirror, I saw the ugly green and yellow mark with a nasty purple color in the middle. I got it last night, while we were walking through downtown Milwaukee.

Years ago, we found this little coffee shop that served everything with maple syrup: ice cream, muffins, oatmeal, cookies. I had forgotten all about it but Ray had remembered it and mentioned that she was craving something "syrupy."

So we decided to go looking for the shop. After her regular meet and greet we ventured out into the cold streets of Wisconsin. Ray swore she remembered where the place was but in forty degree weather, in the dark, she kept leading us further and further away from our hotel with no maple syrup coffee shop.

We ended up ditching the maple syrup-coffee shop idea and settled for a McDonalds with hot coffee and salty French fries. Then on the way back she spotted a fountain in the island of a four way traffic circle. It was lit up in a bright white glow and the fountain itself shot and sprayed water. Rayna called the fountain sprays cute. I called it a way to make sure the water didn't sit long enough to freeze.

First she stole the only quarter I had left in my pocket to throw it into the water and make a wish. Then she wasted her wish on hoping to find that damn muffin place and I made fun of her.

So then she pushed me backwards playfully and I lost my footing on some water that has splashed out of the granite.

While I didn't fall into the water, I did sit down hard on the granite side. I warned her she was going to pay for that but then I lost my footing again when I tried to get up. About five seconds later, I was ass-side into the fountain, while my feet were high above me on the edge of the granite. The water was only about six inches deep but the water felt like it was about negative four thousand degrees.

First Rayna asked if I was okay and grabbed my hand to help me out. Then the second I pulled myself out of the water, she burst out laughing. I told her it wasn't funny, hell for about two minutes I thought I would impotent for the rest of my life. She bit her lip and tried to muffle her laughter but soon the cold night air was bursting with her squeals of laughter. Despite my legs tingling and my entire body shivering I couldn't help but enjoy the sound. It was a sound of Rayna Jaymes having actual fun.

Every person that we passed on the sidewalk stared at me. I know I had to look stupid, I walked with my legs spread apart. My entire body was shaking between the water that soaked my legs and the cold night air. Then there were the water stains caused my crotch and ass to look a lot darker than the rest of my legs.

Several times I caught Rayna trying to stop laughing with her gloved hand. Finally when I caught my own reflection waddling like a duck down the sidewalk, I burst out laughing too.

I made it back to the hotel with a lot of embarrassment and a little bit of chaffing. When we got into the elevator together we both broke out laughing again as the golden inside of the elevator reflected my water-logged ass again.

But when the elevator got off on my floor, Ray blushed and admitted she was working on a song. She asked if I'd been willing to listen and give my opinion. I nodded in response. Ray intentionally kept the elevator door opened as I waddled down the hall. I was already peeling off my jeans by the time I rounded the corner to my room. Then I heard her bark of laughter again right before the ding of the elevator doors.

But despite my sore, wet ass…I had fun last night. A lot of fun.

I look at my watch and realize I'm going to be late if I don't get my bruised ass down to meet Ray.

**Ninety Nine**

We wrote together.

After Deacon heard my song and helped me with my second verse, we started playing around with something different. We managed to write a damn good chorus and had some good starting points for verses. Then we got interrupted by Juliette's personal whatever-she-is.

She said Juliette needed Deacon immediately. That was probably a lie but it sounded desperate enough at the time. As I watched Deacon walk away, I realized how weird it felt. Deacon was someone else's guitar player. He was on someone else's watch. He had priorities that weren't me now.

He belonged to other people now: Juliette or Stacy or the dog. That thought made my head hurt and throat close a little tighter.

**One Hundred **

Juliette was late again.

I didn't mind though. The girls are with Teddy this week. Daddy's still in the hospital. Tandy is at the office trying her best to make Daddy proud.

I would have rather sit on the plane with Deacon and Bucky then be at Tandy's apartment alone staring at the walls. Then I looked over to see Deacon was less amused. His face scrunched in a mixture of frustration and annoyance.

I told him I don't know why he was surprised. Juliette had been late to every plane ride, bus ride, and sound check since I rejoined the tour. I've loved every time she was late.

First, I like being right. I like being right a lot. And Juliette's tardiness, lack of discipline, and flat out disregard for the hundred or so people that are working with her is something I called from day one. It is truly one step forward, a dozen backwards with her.

He'd been annoyed all week. So in between shortened sound checks and the start of the concerts, Deacon hung out in my dressing rooms. When I was on stage, he was laying on my couch watching the live feed. When the show was over, he'd hung out at the lounge area just long enough to let me do my rounds. Then we'd be off, somewhere. Sometimes we'd go out for really late dinner. Some nights, we headed to whatever Presidential Suite or Penthouse I was in and write.

During discussions of key changes, Deacon confided in me that he hadn't written at all recently except for our sessions. He didn't mention Stacey's name but I know she's at least part of the reason. She doesn't like music, or country music, or my music…or something. I'm not so sure exactly. And I confided in Deacon that I've been writing more than I have in years.

So as we waited for our other passengers, Deacon got less agitated as I suggested we show Buck the song we were working on.

**One Hundred and One**

Rayna went to second base with Liam**.**

Thank God! I was worried for a little while after Daddy got sick. The nurse's station had been abuzz with Deacon's overnight stay with Rayna but nothing came of it. Nothing will come of it. He's got that cute little girlfriend. She's got Liam.

Liam is a good post-divorce relationship type. He's sexy, a musician. Nothing too serious and nothing too complicated. And besides, anything is better than Deacon.

**One Hundred and Two **

I went grocery shopping with Stacey.

I haven't been grocery shopping in years with a girlfriend. It felt weird. She didn't know I liked Brawny paper towels cause there is a big woodsman on the front. She had no clue that I loved me some macaroni and cheese from the blue box. Instead she bought some fresh pasta stuff and red sauce. She didn't know what kind of orange juice I liked. She had no clue what kind of fruit I normally got.

It just felt off but she seemed to enjoy it so I went with it. I don't remember ever having the "learn what I like in grocery stores" conversation with Rayna. She just seemed to know what kind of toothpaste I liked or what I wanted on my chicken. Well truth be told, I probably only like the chicken I like because Rayna made it first. I eat the same macaroni and cheese that Ray use to crave while we were on the road.

And while we were unloading the groceries this afternoon, I told Stacey I'm getting off the road. It just feels right. Juliette went from a friend, to a co-writer, to a boss, to some start up diva that I don't recognize.

Besides, how else is Stacey suppose to know what I get from the grocery stores? Me being on the road and her being in Nashville isn't going to work and Coleman and Scarlett and even I realize how good she is for me.

**One Hundred and Three**

I keep thinking about Deacon's birthday party.

It's because Scarlett reminded me of my speech when she told me why Gunnar missed the audition. That night I really thought it was the start, well the re-start of 'us'. He was just going to wait a little longer and I was going to heal a little more... But now he's with Stacey and he seems to really care about her. And I'm getting caught making out Liam on recording studio couches. And now's he gotten me plane tickets to the Caribbean.

And that adds a whole other level of stuff to the pile. But the truth is I like Liam. And there always has been this thing between us. And he is a damn good kisser. And I haven't had sex in like a year. And there will be blue seas and black sand and drinks with umbrellas in them.

Deacon made his choice to be happy with someone else. So why shouldn't I make the same decision?

**One Hundred and Four**

He fucking growled.

In the middle of MY song. Ray hugged him in front of half of Nashville and there were damn cat calls from the audience. Her shoulder pressed against his. She looked him in the eye and gave him that smile. My smile. Then he threw the guitar just long enough to pull her against him.

I tried to keep my face in a blank stare. Stacey was right beside me. And there are other people sending me looks too: some of my band members, Bucky, and then that reporter from the newspaper. I couldn't watch it but I couldn't look away for more than a few seconds. Like a car wreck, can't look at it but can't stop yourself from slowing down and looking.

Car wrecks make people bleed and right now, I felt like I was bleeding. Suddenly I realized I had to get out of there.

And now I'm sitting backstage, listening to them singing over the loud speakers. She's singing songs he wrote with her. And memories of how we use to write songs blur into visions of the two of them. And I grab another water and drink it. I swirl the liquid around my tongue in an attempt to calm myself down. When it was whiskey, it would also soothe me but the bottled water isn't working.

For years, Teddy had her. He was her husband and her lover and all the other things I didn't like to think about it.

But he never had her on stage. He never even existed up there. It was just me and her and the audience. It was in our blood, music and each other.

And now its she and Liam on stage. It's she and somebody else. Then Stacey shows up and starts asking questions. I lie the best I can. At least at first. Until the hurt and the frustration get the better of me.

And then I admit I can't get Ray out of my blood. I've been bleeding for fourteen damn years and still she's there.

**One Hundred and Five**

I tell Liam I'll be about twenty minutes.

He says he'll stay in the car and make some last minute phone calls. We are catching the red eye so we have time.

And then before I realize it, I'm in my bedroom at Tandy's place, changing into a bright green dress that is perfect for the weather in St. Lucia. My suitcase is virtually packed: bathing suits, flowing skirts, sunglasses, beach towels, sexy lingerie. And I catch my expression in the mirror. I should look happier, more excited.

I push that thought out of my head and run a brush through my hair. I grab my makeup bag and my kindle for the plane ride. I flash back to Deacon's face beside that pillar and press my lips together together again. I shake my head and look in the mirror again as I reapply my earrings I'm wearing are big and gold. They would look great on the island but I take them out anyways. They aren't too heavy or bulky but they still don't feel right.

And suddenly I'm looking up at the ceiling and wondering why I encouraged Deacon to go back to Stacey or why I told him my plans with Liam. And I know why. I'm so use to pushing him away. I'm so use to not letting myself too close to him. I find myself reaching for the diamond earrings Deacon gave me for my 25th birthday and put them in.

Deacon is probably with Stacey right now. But then I close my eyes and see his face. Even if he is with her, even if he can never get past all the lost time...he needs to know that he was right. He needs to know that I love him. That for the last fourteen years, I loved him. That every time he held my hand or held my gaze, I felt it too. That as much as he wanted to be close to me, I wanted him close to me too.

I take off the dress I just put on and find another pair of jeans. I swear I'm an idiot.

He's trying to move on with his life. He has moved on with his life. And I'm trying to move on with my life too. He's got Stacey. I've got Liam. He's got Juliette's band and I've got this new album. Tandy, and Buck, and Watty, and Coleman and everybody else sees the good that has come from us separating ourselves.

Yep, I'm an idiot.

I find a shirt and grab my jacket. I pull a random scarf from drawer and twist it around my neck. Its the first day of May, still chilly in Nashville. Its going to be midnight by the time I get over to Deacon's place. I leave the suitcase on the beg and my carry on by the door. I wet my lips with my tongue.

Before I manage to make an idiot of myself in front of Deacon, I've got to do the same to Liam.

**One Hundred and Six**

Its 4:48.

AM. And I don't feel the least bit tired. I'm use to late nights. Hell, some weeks in the winter I never even see the sun. But there is no way in hell I'm falling asleep tonight. Fifteen minutes ago, Ray yawned, turned over, and pushed back against me. I wrapped my arm around her and kissed a slow path from her neck to her ear and back. I whispered that I loved her, something I'd already told her several times that night. She turned her body and gave me a quick kiss and whispered 'goodnight.'

She'd fallen asleep quickly, relaxing in my arms. I don't want to wake her up but I can't stop tasting her skin. I had forgotten so much. Despite the twelve years together, and all the memories and all the dreams. There was so much I forgot.

I forgot how beautiful her eyes looked when they were darkened with love and desire. I forgot the hitch her throat made when I touched her or the sound of her giggle when she was just happy and relaxed and half naked. My memory of how her hair felt against my stomach had dulled over the last fourteen years. And the taste of her smile against my lips was even more addictive then I let myself remember. Then she called me 'Babe.' I hadn't heard her call me that in so long that I damn near lost it when I heard that word tumble from her lips.

My fingers rub in the inside of her wrist and I listen to her slow breathing. I've missed this for fourteen years. I stare down at her and kiss her neck again, letting myself relax against her body. And I feel myself falling asleep in spite of my best intentions. But its been so damn long since I feel asleep beside of her, well at least since we were both naked, and I feel myself relaxing against her more.

Right before I drift off to sleep, Ray shifts in her sleep and I feel the sheet shift just a little bit. My last thought is that I can't wait to wake and up and tease Ray about stealing the covers.


	15. Chapter 15

**First, I apologize for it being over 2 weeks since my last update. I got wrapped up in 'Turbulence' and making sure the August fanfic challenge was done! Anyways with out further ado, her is the chapter to go with Episode 19. I loved this episode so much that I actually found it difficult to write for it. Hope you enjoy!  
**

**CHAPTER 15**

**One Hundred and Seven**

I haven't slept like this in fourteen years.

Naked, on my side, Deacon's arm slung over my waist and another resting over my head. A single thought echoes through my conscious as I ignore the phone ringing: God I missed waking up with this man. He moves slightly, pressing his chest against my back and I lean further back. I hear my phone ringing but there is no way in hell I'm moving right now. Teddy and Tandy have a special ring tone, the bells and chimes respectively. And since neither one of those rings are going off, the girls are fine, which means I'm not moving.

Deacon's breathing is still slow and even. It reminds me of the first time we ever fell asleep together. I was in that crummy apartment in East Nashville. 3 roommates and me. I shared a room with some girl named Vanessa who had some steady boyfriend. It meant most nights I got ou bedroom to myself. But with only one small closet and two single beds, it was still a tight fit. I had two metal bars that spanned across the walls to hold my clothes.

During the weeks where Deacon and I were more than friends but not lovers, we spent a lot of nights at my place. Deacon's place had more space but there was a party every night. At Deacon's we couldn't have a full out grope session without Vince interrupting us or some drunk girl thinking Deacon's door led to the bathroom. Or worse, some drunken guy would hit on me and it would lead to Deacon getting pissed. That would lead to a fight and the police being called. Yeah, my place was just easier.

We would get all hot and bothered then we'd write songs or sometimes we'd write then get all hot and bothered. But when it was time for bed, the only way for us to fit on my single bed was if I lay facing the wall on my side and he pressed up behind me. Even then, once or twice I'd wake up in the middle of the night to Deacon crawling back onto bed.

We slept the same way on tour buses and hotels. We got a Queen's sized bed for our first apartment assuming we'd stretch out more. But that never happened. Even after the hotels rooms on the fifth floor became suites on the penthouse, we slept just like this.

I hear my phone ring again and feel a rumble in his chest as he is waking up. I sink deeper into his chest and feel his arm tighten around me. And I smile because I know his kisses are always lazy and long first in the morning. His voice is always just a smidge lower than his usual pitch and his hair is always sticking up everywhere. His beard tickles more and his laugh sounds just like home.

He whispers a good morning as he stretches out behind me. I lean back and give him a kiss good morning. He playfully bites my bottom lip and I sigh out of the sheer pleasure of it all and settle back down against him. And he starts to kiss my neck and back again. So I keep ignoring my phone as it shrills again, just like we ignored that damn dog in its crate last night. We've probably only gotten two hours sleep and beyond that we just up a hell of a lot energy. I'd be content just to lay here for a while and enjoy this, enjoy him.

Then Deacon teases me about stealing the blankets. And the phone rings again.

**One Hundred and Eight**

Rayna got nominated for Female Vocalist of the Year.

And we celebrated. Sure it took eight more returned phone calls but then we celebrated. We celebrated the way we use to celebrate our nominations. Naked and horizontal. Actually there have been plenty of times we celebrated not so horizontally. That makes me smile all over again.

The first time Ray and I got nominated for the CMAs, we were on tour. We were an opening act to the opening act on an amphitheater tour. We went on at 6:00 and performed five songs while the early comers settled into their seats. We'd been in California and it'd been just after 5 in the morning when we found out. The phone call came from those cheap hotel phones beside the bed. We'd literally fallen asleep like an hour before. Ray squealed when she let me know we were nominated. She jumped up on the bed, stark naked and keep screaming. I started tugging on her ankle trying to make her stop. The alcohol from the night before hadn't quite made it through our system, so she even more excited and I was more nauseous than we would be otherwise.

Eventually Ray jumped off the bed. Ray, in a good mood and naked and awake caused me to follow her. We ended up in the bathroom with her bent over the counter. We didn't win that year but the year after we won 'Duo of the Year.' We celebrated that win the same way.

Just remembering those times makes me smile. Hell, I've been smiling all day. Well except for when I had my little chat Coleman. He thinks I should apologize to Stacey for last night and make things right with her. It honestly doesn't even make sense to me.

I've waited to be with Rayna for fourteen years. I've dreamed of waking up with her and kissing her. Stacey's a great girl and we've had fun she isn't Ray. I look at my watch and realize I have to get a move on to SoundCheck. I promised Charlie I would help him practice since his regular guitarist is on vacation.

**One Hundred and Nine**

I got flowers today.

Actually I got tons of flowers. There are a bunches of sunflowers, roses in vases, gardenias in pots. I've got flowers with balloons and flowers with huge congratulation cards.

But the only ones I cared about arrived a little after two o'clock. They were a bouquet of daisies with a white bow tied around them. There was no note. I didn't need one a note.

Even now I'm just standing in the kitchen staring at my daisies and smiling. The girls will be home soon and then I have to go meet Bucky. I lean over and smell my flowers from Deacon.

Tandy is wrong about everything. Deacon and I have a relationship. We've always had a relationship. We've always had a relationship with daisies and blue guitar picks and song writing. I pick up my phone to call him but then the doorbell rings again. Its more flowers. They'll go on the table with the rest of them.

But the daises are staying on the counter by themselves. And tonight when I go to bed, they'll be on the side table.

**One Hundred and Ten**

We've made out in closets before.

Plenty of times. We've had sex in the coat closet at the country club, twice. Deacon's felt me up in plenty of storage rooms, janitor's closets and back rooms. And somehow I can't even remember any of those kisses or any of those times.

'Cause right now he's kissing me. Right now he's teasing me with his tongue. His hand is cupping my breast and the other hand is resting on my hip. And all I can do is grab his shirt and kiss him back. I vaguely hear a song outside, someone practicing on the spare piano outside. Its a good song but right now I could care less.

Everything I knew last night, everything I've known since I was teenager is validated. Despite the doubts that Tandy planted into my head this morning, this is right. It has been way more than three minutes and I know Buck is probably at the end of the hallway looking at his watch. But then hear Deacon moan into my mouth and all thoughts of Buck and three minutes go out the window.

He pulls away from my lips as he begins a long trail of kisses and nips down my neck. I play with the hair in the nape of his neck only to encourage him more. He whispers against my ear that he has to go. I groan a 'no' and he responds by kissing me again.

**One Hundred and Eleven**

It's been fourteen minutes.

Fourteen minutes since Rayna excused herself for "just a minute." I saw the way Deacon looked at her when she asked to talk to him for a minute. I noticed the way he reached for her hand as they walked into whatever the hell that room is.

I look at my watch. Now its been fifteen minutes and finally the door opens. Rayna walks out first and her hair is disheveled. I notice her readjusting her dress. Then Deacon comes out a solid five seconds later.

They always were terrible at being discreet. He's got lipstick smeared on the side of his face and his shirt is still partially un-tucked. I watch as she takes a finger and wipes away the lipstick she left on him. The women at the end of the hall notice Rayna and Deacon as well. The two lovebirds don't notice me or the pair of women.

**One Hundred and Twelve**

I talked on the phone for eighty six minutes.

And it isn't like Ray and I never talk, we talk a lot but this just felt different. I told her about my conversation with Stacey. She asked if I was sure that our relationship was what I wanted. Twice she warned me that if I had any doubts, she would understand. She wouldn't and I know that. But she only said that because she knew I no intention of backing out. She knew it and I knew it.

Then we moved on to other topics. She complained about this riverboat nominations party thing. I listened to her complain that she has nothing to wear. She always does that. I could hear her smile in the phone and she could tell I was excited just to hear her breathe and laugh and make comments about dirty dishes.

We agreed to meet up at the Riverboat. I've got a recording session with Wayne in the morning and she's got the girls in the afternoon.

Then an hour later she called me back. The girls were asleep and she was in bed. We talked about the night before and this morning and the closet. She tells me that Bucky clearly knows that we are back together. Our conversation went back to last night. She did that sexy laugh I've missed and I swear I felt her blush on the phone at least once.

**One Hundred and Thirteen**

Maddie is beautiful.

I watch as she goes over to the refreshment stand. Right now she's looks more like an adult than a child. That both terrifies me and gives me a burst of pride at the same time.

I can't help but look around at the fathers dancing happily with their daughters. Mine will hardly look at me right now. It kills me that there is this distance between Maddie and I right now. It hurts even more knowing its my own damn fault.

I was so careless and stupid with Peggy. It felt so real, so nice to have a woman want me and respect me and encourage me. And I got reckless.

My marriage to Rayna was over a long time ago but it should haven't ended like it did. Maddie shouldn't have overheard me talking to my girlfriend. I shouldn't have had a girlfriend to begin with. That's the reason Maddie will barely talk to me these days.

A pain shoots through my soul at the idea that Rayna is seeing Deacon again. I don't know why I'm surprised but I am. I was sure something was going on between she and Liam McGuinness. But no, she and Deacon are back together. Rayna said they were just in the early stages or some crap like that.

I can't believe how upset and scared I am about this. Perhaps I'm more upset about Rayna and Deacon because of the distance between Maddie and I right now. It just affirms everything I've always known. Rayna has never gotten over Deacon. She's always been in love with him and his drunk ass was always just waiting in the winds.

**One Hundred and Fourteen  
**

I want to punch the wall or scream at something. This is not happening, not again. Not now. She's pulling away just like she did the night in Atlanta when she told me she was fine. I knew she wasn't fine then. But she lied and said she was.

And she just did the same thing. My mind replays two nights ago and the words she said to me. She loves me, I know that. I've always known that. I've loved her since before she could buy cigarettes. I loved her when her last name was Wyatt. Hell, I even loved her when her license listed her last name as Conrad. When I was so drunk I couldn't remember my own damn name, I loved her.

After years of waiting and hoping, I have her back.

For fourteen years I've had walks and hidden smiles. I've had a few almost kisses and a lot of longing looks. I've had moments on stage and in dressing rooms. I've had ten minutes of Ray over a week's span and considered it a good week.

And now I have her back. I can kiss her in storage closets. I can make love to her. I can wake up to her in the morning and hold her hand just because I want to. I can hear her whisper that she loves me.

God, do I love her too and I have her back.

We've been through her diva behavior and my drinking. We've survived Vince's wreck and the rehabs and her marriage. We've gotten through her firing me, me dating Stacey, and every other bump along the road.

We've been through broken promises and years of waiting and wanting. And I've been waiting here for her. And she came back. That's all that matters, that is all that I care about. Whatever caused her to pull away tonight, whatever she's hiding or afraid to tell me…it doesn't matter.

She is what matters. We are what matters. Only us.

**One Hundred and Fifteen**

I ripped Deacon's shirt.

Not bad, just one button hole, hardly noticeable. But I did get a tad carried away in the limo.

I practically dragged Deacon to the front door and then smashed him against the wall. He smirked against my lips but then stopped moving all together. I looked up at him and his eyes held a secret smile. He could tell how desperate and needy I was. He whispered against my ear that he thought I wanted to take things slowly. I whined against his lips as he made a slow path of kisses from my jaw to my neck and back up.

For over an hour he teased and licked and sucked and swirled. So for over an hour I moaned and squirmed and bucked and begged. Making love to Deacon was delicious and maddening and so completely us.

Afterwards I called the babysitter and she agreed to stay overnight. Of course me offering $20 bucks an hour helped. I promised I'd be back before the girls woke up.

Deacon got dressed and told me he wanted to go outside. We couldn't go to the front porch. Sure, the paparazzi weren't exactly stalking Deacon's house but a neighbor with a phone was just as dangerous. So I grabbed one of his old shirts and he watched as I buttoned it headed to the back porch. The moon was hidden behind clouds but the street lights from the surrounding area helped light up the area.

He relaxed on the back porch swing and I rested my head on his lap. The air was still warm. Deacon's hands worked up and down my legs and my thighs. I looked up at him and smiled. Out loud I asked if he really quit Juliette's band. He let out a rumble of laughter as his hand ventured under the bottom of his shirt.

I asked if he knew what I wanted to do right now. His hand ventured further up the shirt I was wearing. Instead I pushed his hand away and I sat up so we were face to face. I told him that I wanted to sing.

**One Hundred and Sixteen**

Ray's favorite song has always been 'The End of the Day.'

We wrote it after my second stint in rehab. In this house, back when it was our house. One of the letters she written me had a line about wanting it to be the the two of us, together at the end of the it all. So while Ray was outside messing in the garden, I wrote the chorus. It was my promise that the bad part was behind us and I was done with the drinking. She cried when I played it the finished chorus We wrote the rest of the song that afternoon. Then I cried the first time we sang it all the way through.

I knew when she said she wanted to sing, she meant this song. We hadn't sung it years. It was too personal and too painful to sing in an arena or even in the smaller venues. It hurt too much to sing it, knowing I'd broken every promise I'd made her in that song. Once we sang it through twice, I kept playing the chords while she moved the lit candles into the bedroom. I heard her softly humming as she leaned against the door frame of the bedroom. She gave me that look and suddenly the rest of the song didn't seem to be important.

I laid my guitar down on the couch and walked over to her. I lean down to kiss her and she wraps her arms around my neck. She tells me that the tour starts back in four days. I already know that, I was suppose to be on that tour. Then she raises her eyebrow and shrugs her shoulder. She whispers that maybe we couldn't go to the cabin but we could certainly find something to do on the last sixteen tour dates.

I just smiled and kissed her. Just like I told her earlier. What matters is her and me. Right here. Right now.


	16. Chapter 16

**This is the next to last episode of Season 1, so obviously next chapter is the last! Hope you enjoy!**

**CHAPTER 16**

**One Hundred and Seventeen **

We rented a car today.

Since we are keeping a low profile, Ray and I can't be seen walking off a plane or bus together. And Juliette is still mad at me for quitting. I think she also resents the fact that I called Dante from the beginning. So instead of getting weird looks from the band on Ray's bus or start tongues wagging in the press, we decided to get a car.

It was a four hour ride and the rental place only had compact cars. And it reminded me of all the times we had to get in cars to drive to New York and Chicago and Dallas for auditions. Truth is, neither Ray nor I had driven small cars in years. She prefers her big expensive SUVs for the girls and I've had my same ride for years.

We went through a fast food driveway off the highway. As I drove, Ray fed me French fries and then bites of chicken. She laughed as I licked her fingers. Then she grabbed my arm and made me hold her hand.

Ray admitted she felt like she was nineteen again. I know the feeling.

**One Hundred and Eighteen **

Deacon and I have discovered cell phones.

We have both had them for years. Hell, I'm probably on my fourth or fifth cell phone. But only in the last 48 hours or so have we discovered what fun they really are. It started when I was at sound check and I texted him, asking what he was doing. He sent a message back telling me he was in the shower.

I joked in the response that I wanted a picture. He stunned the hell out of me when he said that I had to send him a picture with the top two buttons undone on my shirt. By the time the show started I had some pretty damn sexy pictures of Deacon. And he knew exactly what kind of lingerie I was wearing. We were smart enough to include no faces with our pictures. We may have been horny but we weren't stupid.

When I got back to the hotel Deacon was waiting. He held his phone sideways as I undressed. Every button I undid, he snapped another photo. We ended up naked on the carpeted floor of the penthouse. Afterward, we laid side by side and deleted all of our pictures and most of our texts.

Somewhere between the kisses and the laughter, Deacon admitted to me that he'd known how to text for years. He'd known how to text for years before I got that angry text from him about my divorce. He told that he didn't want us to get in the habit of texting. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and his eyes turned blue-grey. It made me catch my breath. It was the shade his eyes turned when he thought about Vince, or his mama. It was the same shade I'd see when he Teddy would come to rehearsal.

I whispered that I loved him while stroking the stubble along his jaw. We just looked at each other for a moment, letting it sink in that we were really back together.

He smiled back at me. It was one of those slow smiles that always makes me melt and then asked if I knew what he really wanted to do right now.

He took his phone and turned it around and leaned into me. He kissed my cheek as he raised his hand up a second before I heard the 'snap' of the phone. He turned his camera around and we looked at the picture he'd just taken.

It was our first picture we'd taken in years that was just us, really us. Kissing and happy. And I sent up a special thanks for whoever the hell invited cell phones.

**One Hundred and Nineteen **

The bathroom is a mess.

It is also almost as big as my house. Wet towels from Ray's shower are thrown on the tile floor. Her makeup bags are spread across the marble counter with brushes and compacts thrown everywhere. She has two different blow dryers plugged into the wall on one side and her hot curlers are plugged in to another wall. She has lotions and sprays standing up near the mirror. There are fingernail polishes and her perfume bottles. The bra Ray was wearing yesterday is hanging by a strap off the counter. The shower's built in counter is full of her soap and shampoos and conditioners.

Her used coffee cup is smudged with her lipstick, lying on the side of the bathtub. The earrings she couldn't find are on the floor beside a random pair of shoes.

And the whole mess just makes me smile.

I walk back into the master suite and spot Ray digging through one of her suitcases. Then she picks up my bag and starts digging through that too. And I just watch her scramble around throwing clothes haphazardly on the bed and floor.

She catches me staring and asks what I'm grinning at. I just shrug. She just smiles back and keeps digging through her bags. Triumphantly she holds up a bracelet and smiles. She puts it around her wrist and walks over to me. She gives me a quick kiss and tells me it's time to go. I glance back again at the bathroom again and can't help but smile.

**One Hundred and Twenty**

My sister sounds like a giddy school girl.

I swear Rayna completely loses her mind when it comes to Deacon. Bucky complained that Rayna literally giggled and blushed twice during a conversation today. Then Buck said Rayna and Deacon were all over each other in the dressing room. That is new too, him in the dressing room with her.

They have twelve stops left and three weeks until the tour is over. Bucky did say they are doing a good job of being subtle thus far. In Bucky speak that means they are staying in their hotel room and avoiding public displays of affection.

**One Hundred and Twenty One**

I am wearing six dollar sunglasses.

They are cheap plastic, the color of mud, and cover half my face. Deacon picked them up at the drug store this morning. He also got both of us baseball caps. His hat is a deep green color with the local high school emblem on it. My hat is black from the hockey team that plays here.

Deacon's wearing a non-descript black t-shirt and jeans. With my hair pulled back and the sunglasses on, the likelihood of being recognized went way down. We have been hanging out in the penthouses for weeks. Neither of us had any complaints about late night room service or coffee in the room. It's just that we have waited so long to take a walk together holding hands or sit on the same side of the booth at a restaurant. So we decided to venture out.

The two of us walk through the mid morning bustle of downtown D.C. The May weather is warm but the light breeze makes it comfortable. We grab a pretzel at a street vendor and wonder the streets. We find a small public park with a large fountain in the center. The benches are full of young women with strollers and older couples reading books. But there is a soft spot of grass under a tree and so he sits down and find a comfortable spot between his legs.

Eventually I end up with my head on his shoulder and my right hand joins with his left. We stay quiet for a while enjoying each other's company. Then we discuss finding a new artist for my label. We've listened to probably a hundred demos in car rides and early mornings on the couch. Buck says I'm being too critical. Deacon says that I'm being too picky but he's only found a couple of artists that he thinks have potential too. But I'm not going to settle, so we'll just keep listening to demos until I find someone as perfect as Scarlett.

Deacon says we need to start heading back to the hotel but I sigh and insist on five more minutes. He doesn't argue.

**One Hundred and Twenty Two **

I went on a date with Goldie last night.

Yesterday we went walking in D.C. and on the way back to the hotel; Ray found a small costume and novelty shop. She bought a blonde wig. Then tonight after the show, she put on halter top, tight jeans, the blonde wig and some red lipstick. Then she named herself Goldie

We've snuck around before. We did it when we were kids. Lamar had the police chief and the Sheriff over for dinner at least once a month. There was the time we played at a bar that the fire marshal showed up in and closed down due to overcrowding. Then another time police wrote us a ticket for some bullshit noise violation charge. Hell, one time I got arrested for a damn jaywalking ticket. It was Lamar's doing, all of it. But it was worth it, Ray was worth it. So, we would have to sneak. We'd use back doors and side entrances. We would borrow cars from friends. She would go grocery shopping by herself and I'd buy soil for her flowers alone. Back then it wasn't all that exciting. It was annoying. It was Lamar throwing his weight around. It felt like life-or-death, it was our relationship, our dreams, and it was our career.

Now it's kinda fun. We ate a local place a block from the ocean. It had decent seafood and damn good hushpuppies. Had anybody seen Goldie's hand during the last ten minutes of the meal, we would have been kicked out. But instead of heading back to hotel, we walked around the beach. The water was freezing but it didn't stop Ray, excuse me Goldie, from splashing her legs to get my shirt and pants wet. I returned the favor.

We rode back to the hotel on one of those rickshaw things peddled by some college age kid. Between the cold water and the late night, we were both shivering. After we made it back upstairs, I found a coffee machine in the spare bathroom and she turned on the Jacuzzi tub. I made her take off the wig. I don't mind flirting and kissing Goldie, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna have sex with anybody but Ray.

**One Hundred Twenty Three**

I choked on my coffee this morning.

I don't wanna think about Bucky having sex. Or Tandy having sex. Or Bucky and Tandy having sex.

I mean I've always gotten along with Buck. As for Tandy, well I burned that bridge a long time ago. But then this morning out of nowhere Buck mentions that Tandy is, and I'm using his words, "a tiger" in the bedroom. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Instead I just choked on my coffee. When Ray asked what was wrong I just said the drink was hot.

Then Rayna told Bucky that we'd found two more artists she thought had potential. I listened as the two of them reviewed the day's schedule. Two radio show interviews to do before lunch. Then she has a publicity interview for her show in Raleigh next week.

Truth is, the last couple of weeks have been fun. I like getting to sleep in my mornings. I like that I can strum my guitar for hours on end trying to find a melody that fits. I like that my schedule is whatever I want it to be. I don't have wait around for sound checks. I don't have men in tights thrusting at me while I try to play a song. I can play the songs I wanna play, how I want to play them.

But I miss the stage. I miss performing. I miss being up there with Ray and the guys in the band. I miss the heat of the lights and the roar of the crowd.

Ray's band has known for at least a few days that I'm with her. Hell they probably knew earlier than that. But last night was the first time we did something with any of them. It was just Mark and Johnny. But the two of them came up to the penthouse with the guitars in hand. The acoustics in the bathroom were amazing so the three of us guys sat on the tile floor. The three of us played for over an hour and took turns singing. Ray was content just to sit against the wall, sip her diet drink and eat a grilled cheese sandwich. It felt like old times.

Eventually the two guys left and it was just the two of us. We sang duets that we didn't write like'Jackson' and 'You're the Reason God Made Oklahoma'. After that, I played the chords I'd been working at all morning. We wrote a really good first verse. Then she started yawning. She insisted she was fine but ten minutes later she was asleep against my shoulder.

**One Hundred and Twenty Four**

I miss my babies.

And in two days I'll see them again. But it also makes me nervous. Things have been amazing with Deacon. The girls are enjoying their last month of school. Maddie seems happier than I've seen her since the divorce. Daphne is her usual self. Teddy and I have been very civil on the phone.

I'm afraid of shifting this positive turn we've all taken. Deacon comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He whispers he'll give me a penny for my thoughts. I let out a contented sigh and tell him what I was thinking about.

He kisses my neck before we sit down on the bed.

We've already talked about how things were going to go when we got back to Nashville. When I have the girls, I'll stay at Belle Meade with them. Bucky knows that I need my schedule to fit with my new needs and time schedules. I want to maximize my time with Deacon during the day and with the girls once school is out. When it is Teddy's week, I'm going to stay with Deacon at our house. Just the thought that it is going to be 'our' house again makes me smile.

We both want the girls to be comfortable with our relationship especially considering how Maddie found out about Peggy. Just thinking about how sweet and considerate Deacon is of the girls makes my heart melt.

I lean back against him and ask him if he knows how happy I am. I feel him smile against my neck and relax. He tells me that we better get going or we'll be late for the show.

**One Hundred and Twenty Five **

Deacon brought apple pie.

And they were singing. Maddie was beaming at Deacon's compliments and the three of them sounded like angels together. I just wanted to stop cutting up vegetables and listen to them, watch them. Deacon's eyes were lit up, like how they get when the lyrics finally click together or when he finally gets the ending to a song to mesh like he wants to.

Then Teddy came in and tried to ruin the whole thing. Deacon came to check on me but I insisted everything was okay. Maddie was still in a weird mood for a while, quiet with her eyes looking down at the floor.

Deacon and I laughed as Daphne recited her three lines for the fourth grade pageant. Maddie finally got less weird as she started asking a million questions about Juliette Barnes and how Deacon started in the music business. Deacon kept everything PG-rated. Then it was time for dessert.

Deacon encouraged the girls to eat the pie right out of the box. So we sat around the coffee table in the living room with our forks. We added whip cream and very quickly the pie was gone.

So we decided that we were still hungry and we pulled out vanilla ice cream. Maddie helped me get out the sprinkles, some fruit, chocolate syrup and the whip cream again.

I cut up strawberries, sliced the pineapples, and poured out the cherries. Then we made our own Sundaes in the ice cream bowls and went back to sit around the coffee table. With our bellies full, Maddie wanted to play more music. She asked if we could play one of our old songs. We chose 'Maybe Now' cause it was one of the few that didn't explicitly involve the idea of sex, alcohol, or those three little words.

It was after nine before Deacon left. I walked him to the back door and for just a second he took my hand. We'd already agreed no kissing but it was hard not touch him. I'd gotten so use to kissing him and hugging him and touching him again that it seemed like I was being punished as he walked to his truck.

Of course two hours later when the girls were asleep, I was awake and highly enjoying Deacon's teasing texts messages.

**One Hundred and Twenty Six**

Maddie knows we're dating.

And in some ways it is a relief and in other ways it makes me queasy. I usually don't let myself think about Maddie as his daughter. It was a decision I made a long time ago, when Deacon belonged to people named Jack Daniels and Jim Bean. It was a choice I made to protect Maddie and Deacon and if I'm a little bit honest, I did it to protect myself too.

I know Maddie is confused about a lot right now. Teddy's reaction last night was unacceptable and him taking out a restraining order is just ridiculous. I just hope Maddie believes me when I tell her that I love her. I just hope that she doesn't think I'm lying to her like Teddy did about Peggy.

**One Hundred and Twenty Seven**

Using Lamar was my idea.

After Ray and I finished the rehearsal, we went back to my house. We just laid on the couch and she told me about the restraining order and Maddie overhearing our phone conversation.

I know I should be concerned about the bullshit Teddy is pulling. But she didn't turn to Liam or Teddy or Bucky about this. Rayna told me, she confided in me. We are figuring out how to handle the situation together. Just like we have doing for the last couple weeks on the road. It was my idea to have Ray go see her father.

After all, if I had to put up with Lamar friends-in-high-places crap for decades, I think it is time that Teddy started feeling Lamar's wrath.

**One Hundred and Twenty Eight**

We were at the Opry tonight.

Don't matter how many times I've been on the stage, it still feels holy. And tonight I got to watch my only niece make her Opry debut. Hell, I got to play with her. I could see her face light up in awe when the crowd rose to their feet. And I got to see Ray's eyes sparkle as she announced her new record.

I took Scarlett out for dinner. I listened as Scarlett squealed to my sister on her phone. She recounted at least a dozen times how it felt to be on the stage. Ray sent me a text that the Judge had cancelled the restraining order. I can see the girls, I can be with Rayna, Scarlett's career is just starting, I'm going back on tour with Rayna and working on some new stuff.

Things are just good. Things are always good when we play at the Opry.


	17. Chapter 17

**No surprise, this is the last chapter because it is the last episode. I wrote it from the perspective of not having watched the Second Season so somethings may not be accurate now but I'm keeping them consistent with the story. **

**This was hard to write but I hope you enjoy it ( as much as you possibly can). Thank you all for your wonderful comments, PMs, etc. for this story. It has been a lot of fun to write!  
**

**CHAPTER 17  
**

**One Hundred and Twenty Nine**

Deacon needed me last night.

Juliette Barnes' mother died and Deacon blamed himself. When I got his text last night asking me to call him, I knew it was serious. It sounds crazy, but I could tell from his text message that something was wrong. When he picked up the phone, he sounded devastated. I could hear the way his voice his shook. I've know him since I was sixteen and I know when he needs me. Last night, he needed me.

Tandy didn't answer her phone, neither did Bucky. So in a true sign of desperation, I called Daddy. He showed up in his damn plaid pajamas and a newspaper-boy hat. He grumbled that he couldn't believe he was coming over here so that, "you comfort Deacon." He used air quotes and mumbled about the guest bedroom not having goose down-pillows I made sure Daddy got settled in before I quickly headed over to Deacon's.

I pulled up at the house after 11. When the door flew open I didn't even see his expression. Instead he immediately pulled me into his arms and held on tight. His face stayed buried in my neck until I felt the tears run down my collarbone.

Eventually I pulled him into the house. His touch was urgent as he pulled my tank top up. We didn't talk. Instead, Deacon pulled me down onto the rug and whispered my named. He couldn't even meet my gaze, instead he just stayed buried in my neck as I worked his jeans down and he lifted my dress higher up my leg.

When it was over, I leaned against him and pressed kisses into his forehead and along his jaw. Eventually his blue eyes met mine. He told me about Jolene. His eyes turned that heartbreaking grey hue when he told me about her relapse at his birthday party. He confided in me how hard it was to try and be the sponsor for someone else. He mentioned Vince briefly through tears. I wiped away his tears and held him close, trying to reassure him. I told him that Daddy was staying with the girls but I had to be back before 6:30. He smiled as we both eyed the clock on his mantle. It read 12:02.

I asked what I could do to help him as my fingers traced down the lines of his arm. Deacon told me again that he loved me. He said it so reverently, so quietly that it took my breath away. I kissed his forehead and told him to give me a few minutes. I scattered candles around Deacon's bedroom and played with Deacon's I-Pod until I did a playlist of our own music and pressed play.

I undressed and folded my clothes on the chair in the corner. Then I found a plaid shirt of Deacons and put it over my shoulders. I didn't bother buttoning it up. I went and found Deacon in the living room, took his hand and led him into the bedroom. I made him lie on his stomach and worked out all the kinks and tight muscles I played with the muscles of his back and arms, slowly kneading and massaging.

Eventually, my touches turned from a deep massage to feather light touches. I began kissing his back and licking the line of his shoulders. We made love again, both on our sides facing each other. It was long and slow and delicious.

Afterwards I set my phone for 6 am and I snuggled into his arms. About ten minutes later, his smoke alarm went off thanks to the fire from the candles. We were naked and howling with laughter as Deacon jumped on the bed and tried to fan the smoke away. I ran around the room blowing out the candles as best I could between laughing.

We both laughed. His was one of those hearty laughs that stuck clung in his throat. We ended up in each other's arms, laughing as the smoke escaped from the newly opened windows. He whispered against my lips a 'thank you' for coming over to see him. I just smiled against him.

I hate that he is in pain right now but in some ways I am relieved that I could finally be here for him like this.

**One Hundred & Thirty**

That was the easiest conversation I've ever had about my relationship with Deacon.

I've had talks with Tandy over the years about Deacon and I being back together. Normally they would end with her shaking her head, throwing back her glass of wine, and promising me she wouldn't say 'I told you so' when he relapsed. Daddy and I have never had a conversation about Deacon and I that didn't end with threats and at slamming doors. Managers, various presidents of Edgehill, hell even Coleman never really liked when I moved back in with Deacon. Teddy clearly didn't take the news well either.

But this morning when told the girls about us, it was incredibly easy. The CMAs are tomorrow and I wanted to make sure they were both okay before Deacon and I went public. It must have been subconscious thing but I wore a yellow top which flowed with ruffles and buttons. I pulled a piece of my hair to the side, leaving the rest lose and curly. I chose the earrings Deacon gave me for my birthday all those years ago. It looked remarkably similar to what I wore at the Bluebird. A smile formed on my lips thinking of how things were now.

Things aren't perfect. Juliette's mother is dead. Deacon is going to be helping Juliette for a while. Highway 65 is going to take a ton of work. Scarlett and Will are going to need tons of time and help. I still have to finish my album. Teddy is still being a pain. Maddie has been acting strange lately. I know she's getting to the age where everything bothers her. Daddy and Tandy are headed for a showdown over the business.

But at least we are together and at least one thing went smoother than I anticipated.

**One Hundred and Thirty One**

Ray and I got into a fight last night.

I saw her outfit for the CMAs. She sent me a picture of it on my cell. And I immediately called her in part because I really liked the picture and in part because I couldn't believe she planned to wear that on national television. The leather pants were tight but that top. DAMN.

She could tell I was jealous but promised that the blue top wasn't nearly as revealing as the picture looked. I wasn't convinced. Ray offered a compromise. She would meet me at the end of the driveway to show me how it looked. It was after 11 at night when I drove my truck to the end of her driveway at Belle Meade.

The second my headlights hit her body I realized the picture was actually conservative. She informed me it was Dolce and Gabbana. I told her it was lingerie.

Truth is, it has never really bothered me when Rayna went on the "show more skin" side. When we were together the first time, I knew she was mine. She'd wear short skirts and shirts that showed her belly button. It didn't bother me. The boys could look and be jealous as hell when I took her home. Hell, it was a turn on knowing that the guys were all hoping she would go home with them. Sometimes we'd sneak off to this same damn truck we were in or to a locked bathroom in the middle of a party.

Then there were the years that she was with Teddy. I sure as hell didn't mind seeing those legs I loved night after night. I had no complaints when I got to look down her dress cause the outfits she wore was split half way to her hips. I couldn't touch but I sure as hell could look. If I couldn't take her home at night I could at least appreciate what she looked like. Hell, some nights I'd close my eyes with some fan that snuck backstage and pretend it was Rayna and that outfit that was with me in the hotel room.

Now she's mine again. I would be perfectly fine if she wore a damn sack out in public and nothing at all in private. She couldn't understand why I was acting jealous about the outfit. I mean damn, in the dark of her driveway with the engine cut off her boobs were just out there.

She got annoyed. I got more jealous when she told me Brad had seen the top and loved it. Then suddenly I was kissing her in my SUV. She smiled against my lips and reminded me the girls were asleep. We crawled in the back and she carefully took off her top, placing it in the front seat. She whispered into my ear promising that she only wanted me, always wanted me.

Then for the first time in fifteen years Ray and I had sex in a car. In fact it was same damn vehicle. That fact made me smile into her hair.

I made some joke, "If the truck is rocking, don't bother knocking."

Then all too soon she said she needed to get back inside. I begged her for two more minutes. She kissed me, and then gave me double the requested time. Then she was getting back into the top, with one final kiss I told her I'd pick her up at 5 o'clock the next day.

**One Hundred and Thirty Two  
**

I think Deacon is my father.

Mom is dating him again and I heard her say that she loved him. Then Dad completely freaked when Deacon was over at the house.

I've known for a long time that Mom and Deacon used to date. DJs talk about it on the radio when their songs are played. There is a picture in Bucky's house with Mom on Deacon's back and they are kissing each other at one of those album parties. Nobody ever told me that they dated for a long time or that they dated right before Mom married Dad.

I didn't sleep at all last night. Instead I just kept looking on line for everything I could find out about them. I watched interviews with Mom on youtube with that old woman on 'The View.' Mom's haircut was so bad back then. There are tumblr pages and internet fan clubs that want Mom and Deacon to get married. Some fans did clipart and put a lot of pictures of them in collages like we used to do in school. There were a lot of pictures I've never seen before. I read that they started living together when she was seventeen. I'm not even allowed to date until I'm eighteen.

After I googled them, I went downstairs. I looked at the picture of Mom and Dad on their wedding day for like five minutes. In the big picture of Mom by herself, she's holding the flowers over her stomach. Then I went and looked at the smaller picture of Dad and her together on their wedding day, it is just of their faces. I went to Mom's room but she wasn't there. So I snuck into her closet again and pulled out my parents marriage license. I was born five months after the wedding. I put the paper back into the box and heard Mom come in the back door.

I ran back to my room and pretended to be asleep when she checked on me. While I waited for Mom to check on me, I thought about how Deacon plays the guitar. He's totally famous and way better than me but nobody else in my family plays the guitar. I texted Talia about the guitar playing and the brown hair. She said that didn't mean anything. She told me that lots of people do stuff their parents don't do and then said Daphne had blonde hair. That's true I guess.

When I was sure Mom was asleep I got back up and pulled out my laptop. There were clips I downloaded with Mom at the Grammys when she won. She kissed Deacon like people do in the movies and only thanked Aunt Tandy, Bucky, and Deacon. There were interviews where they asked my Mom about Deacon and turned red. It was like how Talia blushes when Jeremy Pryor asked her to movies last week. There weren't a whole lot of interviews with Deacon.

I even took my computer into my bathroom and looked at pictures of Deacon beside me. I don't really look like him either. I walked back into my bed and held onto my pillow.

I know even without anybody telling me. They both lied to me, my whole life.

My Dad is not my Dad. Deacon is.

**One Hundred and Thirty Three  
**

I went to the jeweler today.

After Juliette closed the door in my face I got back in the car and took a heavy sigh. Right now Juliette needed to be mad and angry with someone. If she chose to be angry with me, I wouldn't do any good hanging around. So I decided to run an errand since I had plenty of time before I needed to start getting dressed for the CMAs.

A couple of days ago I'd gone digging in the drawer looking for that velvet box. The ring's bright diamond had dulled over the years so I decided to go ahead and get it cleaned and polished.

I know I'm planning a little in advance. Ray's divorce won't be final for at least another month. I know I don't want to ask her before their marriage is officially over. Ray's girls just found out we are dating and they need to time to adjust. Hell, I need time to adjust to them too. I've always loved them but the idea of being their stepfather just blows my mind.

I bought this ring sixteen years ago and I think it's about damn time I ask her. If I asked her to marry me tomorrow, she'd say yes. But if I asked her, Ray would only be able to wear the engagement ring in private. We'd have to have some long-ass engagement. I don't want that either.

I've called Rayna so many things: "the only woman I've ever loved", "my girlfriend", "my ex", "my boss", "the reason I got sober", "the most beautiful thing I've ever seen", and just simply 'Ray'. But I want to call her my wife. But I can wait a little bit longer. We're together again and I can't help but smile.

Last year, I went to the CMAs. Ray didn't play, just announced a category. I played lead guitar as a favor to Tim. Ray wore a purple gown that clung to her body and Teddy clung to her like a cheap suit.

Tonight she'll be mine again, just like I've always been hers. It will be me clinging to her, holding her hand. Although if she's still insisting on wearing that outfit, everybody eyes will definitely be on her.

**One Hundred and Thirty Four  
**

I can't breathe.

Maddie is sitting on the couch in the living room and I had to excuse myself for a moment. None of this makes sense at all. Ray had a DNA test done on Maddie? Teddy isn't her father?

My head keeps swimming at the idea that Rayna has a kid with some other guy and never told me. I know what Maddie said, but she can't be mine. Ray and I hadn't had sex in over a year before Maddie was born.

But for some reason, I still can't breathe.

Whatever reason I gave Maddie for going in the bedroom is forgotten as I walk back into the living room. Maddie is crying and doesn't realize that I'm back. So I just look at her. To me, Maddie has always looked like Ray. Neither one of the girls look like Teddy.

Maddie doesn't look like me either. But she does play the guitar, like me. She is quieter, like me. I shake my head to try and clear it. No. She's not mine. She can't be. It's not even possible.

Ray would never. Besides, I would know. I would know. Ray got married to Teddy because she got pregnant with his child. Why the hell would she get married to Teddy if he wasn't the father? My mind races, trying to figure out who the hell Rayna cheated on Teddy with. It wasn't me. We didn't….

Then my heart finally catches up to my brain. I know she didn't sleep with anybody else. That thought grips my throat and I let out a sound that startles Maddie. She wipes her tears away and I go sit beside her on the couch. I tell her that I don't know if I'm her father. I promise her we'll find out, I'll find out. She nods and wipes away more tears.

I volunteer to drive her back home but she shakes her head. She reminds me that I've got to pick up Rayna in thirty minutes. I can't even think about some damn awards show right now. Maddie bites her lip, the way Ray does and asks why I never took a DNA test.

She's accepted this as fact, that I'm her father. I can't even begin to wrap my mind around this. Every excuse I come up with makes no sense. She wipes her tears again and I hear a honk, the second one. It's the damn cab driver. He's been waiting for at least thirty minutes now.

Maddie insists that I have to go pick up Rayna. I grab some cash from the side table and run outside. I pay the cab driver and weakly thank him. Maddie says she wants to go see Talia, apparently that is a friend of hers.

We drive through Nashville quickly, I roll through the stop signs, hit the gas at the yellow lights. My knuckles are holding so tight to the steering wheel that they are white. We finally get to the Talia's house. Maddie tells me thank you for the ride and I nod. She tells me that she's sorry she told me. Somehow I choke on the words that reassure her. I don't even know what I say back. Then she was in the house and I drove away slowly, unsure of where I was going.

I was supposed to be at Ray's twenty minutes ago. I can't…I just can't right now. I jerk the car's wheel and blindly drive around. I end up at our park. The sun is bright and I watch the water roll over the rocks for a while.

I try to wrap my mind around everything. I tell myself that the DNA must for Daphne. But just as soon as I think the question, I know that isn't true. That's not Ray. She didn't cheat on her husband. She sure as hell didn't cheat on Teddy with someone that wasn't me. I rub my hands up and down my jaw. This doesn't make any damn sense.

Maybe it's a joke? Teddy hates me. He filed a restraining order against me. Maybe he planted this test to divide me and Ray? That's even stupider. He'd never allow either of his daughters to think I'm anything more than Uncle Deacon. Then I remember how Teddy over-reacted to me eating dinner with the girls. I try to think of other times I've been with Maddie when Teddy was around. I try to remember having sex with Rayna before I went off to rehab the fifth time.

The memories I desperately try to remember don't come to me. I can't think of anything but Maddie's voice, telling me that she thought I was her father. don't want to think about it. I want to forget I ever knew anything about this but I can't. It's all I can think about, all I can hear In my head, I can feel in my soul.

Ray married Teddy because she got pregnant with HIS kid, not mine. No, Maddie's not mine. If she was mine, Ray would have told me. She would have told me. I would have known, right? I mean how the fuck would I have gotten her pregnant and not remember having sex? I keep reassuring myself over and over that this is some huge-ass mistake. I almost convince myself again that this isn't true. It makes me feel better and I can finally breathe again.

I have to talk to Rayna. Until she tells me that for the last thirteen years she's been with Teddy by choice and not by some obligation I won't believe it. Until she tells me that she lied to me all this time, I won't admit it to myself.

Then suddenly my throat closes again. The memories I'd begged for early come rushing back. I remember the times she bailed me out of jail, the times she cried as I drank from the bottle and threw dishes on the floor. I can see her eyes pool with tears as I show her how I burned the letters she wrote me. I can remember the night I busted out the windows of her car, the night I broke the kitchen table of her new apartment. I can almost smell the whiskey on my breath as I remember lying to her, swearing I hadn't been drinking.

But, I would remember if we had sex. I would know if Ray had my child.

No. Until Ray tells me otherwise, I won't believe it. I look around and realizing the sky is dark. According to my watch its 8:15. She and Brad go on stage at 8:55. I jump in the SUV and vow to myself I won't think about until I talk to Ray.

**One Hundred and Thirty Five**

Deacon doesn't want us to go public yet.

It is the only thing I can think of as Carrie Underwood introduces our song. For the last fourteen years, I thought all he wanted was to be back together. He's told me that for the last month, almost non-stop. He was the one who wanted to go public; he was the one who was tired of hiding behind ball caps and sunglasses. He was ready to play publically in the band, hold hands backstage, and eat lunch in a restaurant.

I hit the chorus and smile into the camera. Deacon looks at me angrily and then looks down at this guitar. I turn back to Brad and sing another line. Maybe Deacon is mad about the outfit again? Maybe he's annoyed that I'm singing a song that was produced by Liam? Maybe he and Juliette got into it about Jolene's death?

As I hit the second chorus a sense of dread spreads through my fingertips. Maybe Deacon has had second thoughts about us? Maybe the kids and Teddy and Daddy and everything is just too much? The song is on its last chorus and I look back at Deacon again. He's looks furious.

As the audience applauds and I hug Brad, Deacon practically throws his guitar off and leaves the stage. He'll find me when he's ready to talk about whatever it is. Until then, I've only got thirty-two minutes to change my clothes, fix my hair and get ready to present the award by myself.

**One Hundred & Thirty Six**

Deacon knows.

Maddie knows. Deacon and Maddie know. Deacon is heartbroken. He's angry. He looked…lost. And Maddie is so confused and hurt right now. Deacon won't pick up his phone. Maddie told me that she wanted to live with Teddy.

My lip trembles. This is all my fault. The people I've tried to protect for the last decade are hurting. The people I love the most in the whole world hate me. And its all my fault. I always knew someday I would have tell them but not like this. God, never like this. My phone is running low on battery as I call Deacon's cell phone again. I leave another message, begging Deacon to call me.

I walk upstairs to Maddie's room and lay on her bed. Elephant Shoes is on the bookshelf, the animal Deacon gave Maddie for her first birthday. It looks so much like the elephant Deacon bought me two decades ago. I go over and pick it up, stroke the fur that is still left on the animal and hold the animal up to my cheek.

I finally burst into tears as the reality sets in. I know what he's doing right now. It's that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach I've had countless times before. I'd almost forgotten what this felt like, how terrifying it is waiting for a call from the police. I send up a silent pray hoping when the phone call comes, they'd tell me he was in a holding cell and not in the hospital. I'd forgotten what bargaining with God truly felt like.

Only this time, its not the disease's fault, it's not Vince's fault, is my entire fault.

**One Hundred & Thirty Seven**

I've had six drinks.

And I can think about is how Ray never trusted me again. She couldn't have. She did lose faith in us, in me. Otherwise, she would have told me the fucking truth at some point.

I've almost convinced myself that I remember the night…the night I got her pregnant. I laugh into the glass, causing the liquor to slosh around. I don't remember a fucking thing.

I take another swig, as I remember all the times that me and Ray almost crossed the line. The trip to the Rockies, the night at the Bluebird, the elevator….but we stopped.

We always stopped. We stopped because I was a fucking drunk who was too self-absorbed to see how much I was hurting her. We stopped because she found a stable guy, one who loved her. We stopped because she had children waiting at home, his children. We stopped because she had a family.

Only she didn't. She had my family. We had a family. I have a family.

I laugh again, the whiskey working as I recalled the night I told Juliette that Rayna was my family. I'm a damn physic. Actually I'm thirteen years late.

Ray is my family. So is Maddie. They are my family. They were my family for the last thirteen years. I ask the bartender to make the next one a double and close my eyes trying to somehow block out my own damn thoughts.

Maybe during my next drink, I'll quit playing the damn fool. I'll get angry again, like I did a couple of drinks ago. Yep, next round I'll be pissed as hell again.

**One Hundred and Thirty Eight**

Rayna always deserved better than him.

He's crawling on his hands and knees across the city lawn. He's pathetic. He's scum. He smells like cheap booze and cigarettes and stale peanuts. His eyes are red and his movements are slower than normal. Security guards shove him onto the sidewalk and I don't want to watch this loser anymore.

I've spent all night listening outside my daughter's room as she cried hysterically. Crying over him. He doesn't deserve either of them.

Now my wife and my daughter have him to worry about all over again. He's embarrassing and dangerous. I vow that no matter what I have to do, I'll keep my wife and my daughter safe from him.

**One Hundred and Thirty Nine**

I always thought I'd be in a cemetery, crying over Deacon.

For nearly two years after Vince died I knew I would put Deacon in a box, in the ground. I'd even decided what I wanted his headstone to look like. It was going to be simple, deep grey with a guitar etched on the top. I even had a conversation with Vince's mother about the possibility of Deacon being buried near Vince. It seemed fitting. In some ways, Deacon died the same day Vince did.

I'm only here at Jolene's funeral because I hoped Deacon would be here. My conversation with Juliette about addiction only makes me feel worse. When Juliette walks away, I stay seated on the bench. I grip the cement.

The fact that he isn't at any of the hospitals or police departments gives me hope. Deacon has been sober for so long, he is strong enough to not drink. I look down at my phone as it blinks. It's a text from Coleman. He says Deacon is at home. I feel myself crying in relief. He's home and he's okay. If it was bad, Coleman would have told me.

**One Hundred and Forty  
**

Deacon is waking up.

He's been passed out for hours. My arm has been aching since Deacon and I wrestled. I'm talking to Anita on the phone. She offers to come over but I tell her not to come. I promise to call her soon.

**One Hundred and Forty One **

Coleman was always so damn gullible.

First he tells me to call on God. Then he tells me he talked to Rayna, like somehow he knows what the fuck I'm thinking or what I'm going through.

Coleman doesn't know that the pillow I passed out on smells like Ray. He doesn't know that I've already been to the liquor store. He doesn't remember all my hiding places. I bet Ray remembers all the places I hid my booze too but she's not here. I feel like I'm going to rip into pieces when it occurs to me that she should have been here all along. But she chose Teddy. She chose some stranger over me to raise our daughter.

I stumble into the shower and hope that the water will rinse away what the whiskey hasn't yet.

**One Hundred and Forty Two  
**

He is drunk.

The smell isn't bad, masked by his cologne and the cool night air. But the way his eyes can't focus on mine tells me everything I've been praying wasn't true. He fights me for the keys as he cusses me out.

I claw at his fist until he yells at me that for once he wishes I would just leave him alone. He has no idea how many times I've wished the same.

I grip the wheel and try not to cry as I exit the parking lot. It scares me how quickly we fall back into the dance we haven't done in so long. I pull onto the highway and he says nothing. I hear glass hit the dashboard. A second later I smell the brown liquor and look over, watching as he drinks straight from the bottle. I can't watch him do it, so instead I cut my eyes to the left and focus on the streetlight on the other side of the road.

**One Hundred and Forty Three  
**

I yell at her.

Louder and louder. I take bigger sips from the bottle. She asked me what the hell I was thinking driving drunk. I yelled back that I was trying to help Juliette. She shakes her head as the quiet fills the SVU.

I yell again. I ask how her how could do this me? She yells back, asking me how I could drink after being sober for thirteen years.

I scream that I was right that day in the yard; she did lose faith in me. She yells back at me, pointing at the bottle. I holler that she chose to be with Teddy, chose for Maddie to with Teddy. I yell that she never loved me at all. She yells that I know that isn't true.

I yell again, mad at her for yelling at me. She is acting like she's the damn injured party. I yell again asking her how in the hell she married Teddy fucking Conrad.

**One Hundred and Forty Four**

He wants me to shut up.

I made my own choices. I lied. I pretended. I kept it all to myself. I cried at her crib, knowing I'd done the right thing but hating myself for it none the same. There were nights I would close my eyes and let myself pretend it was Deacon instead.

But I did it because he couldn't handle himself back then. He sure as hell couldn't handle a child. He knows that, I know he knows that. He knows Teddy was what was good for Maddie. He knows that I love him.

He cries for a minutes and I want to cry myself. Then he gets angry again and starts to yell. He knows that I can't stand him drinking so he makes sure I see him do it.

He tells me that the last thirteen years have been a lie. He yells at me that I owe him an apology. He yells at me that Maddie's best friend's name is Talia. He yelled that didn't even know the name of his daughter's best friend.

He knows why I didn't tell him. He can never forgive me for it, he can be angry the rest of his life. But he damn well knows that I love him. He knows that I didn't do any of this to hurt him or Maddie. But he's screaming at me and telling me differently.

I know it's the alcohol. I grab the bottle and he snatches his hand away. He is trying to make me mad. It works. I scream at him to put the damn bottle down.

His eyes are full of tears and he asks me how I never told him. I just want to pull over on the side of the road and cry but instead Deacon starts yelling again. He tells me to shut my lying mouth and then takes another long swig from the bottle.

We go around in circles, yelling and screaming at each other. He yells at me, screams that I am not the victim in this. I yell back.

He screams at me again, shaking the bottle at me, to shut up.

**One Hundred and Forty Five  
**

She yelled louder.

When I grabbed the wheel and when her body jerked as the car spun across the road. Everything happened in slow motion, like every other car wreck I have been in. The blood rushed back to my head as the car goes back to its upright position. For a second, I thought that we were okay.

Then we kept rolling. The headlights of the car showed grass beyond the windshield. I saw the glass shattering from the window beyond Rayna, the pieces gleamed as they danced in the headlights.

Slowly, the dizzy feeling started again. I was yelling loudly. As the car went upright again, I realized it was just me yelling.

Then a loud crunch sounded again and we rocked back and forth, slowly. I remember us in this SVU a few nights ago. I made a joke about this thing rocking. Finally it stops moving.

My eyes won't open but I keep waiting, waiting to hear her yell at me. I can't form the words yet but in my head I'm screaming at her to yell at me. Yell at me for drinking, yell at me for never giving her a ring, yell at me for getting two pineapples at the grocery store when we can barely afford milk. Yell at me. Please Ray, just yell at me. Talk to me.

Just say something.


End file.
